


Hanging On

by GatesVengeance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys with feelings, Eventual Smut, M/M, pro quidditch players
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatesVengeance/pseuds/GatesVengeance
Summary: Oliver didn't want to leave Puddlemere United. And he certainly didn't want the baggage that came with joining a new club.
Relationships: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Comments: 20
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.
> 
> Oliver didn't want to leave Puddlemere United. And he certainly didn't want the baggage that came with joining a new club

Oliver Wood hated change. In fact, he despised it. He absolutely loathed anything that impacted his usual routine, no matter how mundane and repetitive it was. He dropped the piece of parchment down onto his dining table and let out a groan. He glared at the neatly written words on the yellowish parchment. He had already been in a bad mood this morning before the brown owl had delivered his letter.

He pushed his chair back, ignoring the sound of the wood scraping across his tiled flooring and instead made his way into his small kitchen. He retrieved his wand from his pocket, clumsily waving it to pour the contents of the whistling kettle into his large mug. He groaned when he saw the boiling hot water spill slightly over the edge of his mug, another hasty wave of his wand saw the kettle get dropped straight into the sink.

“Stupid thing.” He mumbled as he went to the fridge and lifted out his jug of milk, pouring a small amount into the red mug.

He picked up his mug once he’d put the milk back into the fridge and went back to his previous seat at his dining table. He took a sip from his mug, savouring the taste of the caffeine before placing it carefully on the table. He grabbed the piece of parchment again, brown eyes desperately rereading the words to make sure he hadn’t misread what was there.

The words still read the same as when he’d initially read them, bold and black.

_‘Oliver,_

_I have had an offer for you to transfer to the Falmouth Falcons for an outrageous fee. Puddlemere don’t have a counter offer._

_Floo me when you get this._

_Dean’_

Oliver didn’t want to play for the Falcons. Sure, their team was good but they weren’t exactly the kind of team that fit in with his own values and morals as a player. Every week, the Falcons were penalized for their dirty, underhanded tactics more than any other team in the entire league. He absolutely _hated_ playing against them because of this.

He supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised that the team played this way, given that more than half of their current team was made up of the players from the Slytherin Quidditch squad that he detested playing against during school. He supposed that Marcus Flint’s tactics were that good that they decided to keep them, despite the fact that he didn’t play for them.

He took another sip from his mug, carefully placing the mug back onto the table before he moved over towards his fireplace. He grabbed some of the floo powder from the mantle and threw it into the empty fireplace, watching it instantly turn into bright green flames. He dropped down onto his knees, cursing at the hard flooring against him, before leaning forward into the fire.

“Dean Thomas, 15 Appleyard Crescent.” His voice shuddered slightly as he spoke, breath catching on the ash. He glanced out into the sparsely decorated flat before him, hoping he didn’t have to wait too long, the slight throb already beginning in his knees.

“Afternoon Oliver.” The deep voice of Dean Thomas greeted him from the other side of the fireplace, a small smile on his face. “Nice of you to respond so promptly.”

Oliver watched the way that his friend and Manager rolled his eyes at the comment, causing a slight grin to grow on his own face.

For many years now, Dean had been Oliver’s talent Manager, securing him excellent sponsor details and negotiating his contracts each time they’d come up close to expiring. Dean was very good at his job, perhaps one of the top in his role, his passion for the role coming from his enjoyment of the muggle sport of Football and emulating the similar role to transition into the world of professional Quidditch.

Oliver had been Dean’s first client not long after the War had finished. He hadn’t really had much to do with Dean at school, given that the younger man was a few years below him but they’d always been cordial and pleasant to each other when passing. Dean had reached out to him nearly twelve months after the War had finished and asked Oliver if he was interested in having someone represent him. Oliver had not been too keen to begin with but that quickly changed once the endorsement deals and Galleons began rolling in.

Dean took a seat on the floor in front of Oliver, crossing his legs as he did so. There was a curious look on his face as he stared at his favourite client. “So. What are your thoughts?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” Oliver asked.

“Oliver.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Well. It’s not something I’m really interested in to be honest.” Oliver responded. “I’d much rather stay at Puddlemere, thanks.”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Dean started, letting out a heavy sigh. “Puddlemere haven’t tabled an offer for a reason. They aren’t keen on keeping you.”

“ _What_?!” Oliver’s voice was quiet. “What do you mean they’re not keen on keeping me?”

“They want to let you go, Oliver.” Dean answered simply. “I’ve talked to Puddlemere and they see your time there as finished.”

“But I don’t want to leave.” Oliver said quietly. He was trying to process exactly what Dean was telling him. He’d played for the team since he’d finished school. He’d worked his way up from Reserve Keeper to being their consistent starter each and every week for many, many years now. He always believed that he would be a one club man and finish his career exactly where he’d started. Exactly where he’d always dreamed of playing since his first time to a professional Quidditch match as a six-year old, wide eyed boy.

“Well if you don’t want to leave and you don’t want to play for the Falcons, you really only have one other choice.” Dean started. He waited only a moment before he continued. “You can retire.”

“Retire?!” Oliver balked at the other man. “I’m only bloody twenty-seven! I’ve still got lots of playing years left in me!”

“What do you want me to say Oliver?” Dean asked. “You’ve been offered a great deal to transfer to the Falcons which includes captaincy. I think you’re barking if you don’t want to take it.”

“They want me to captain? Why?” Oliver questioned.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Probably because you’re a fantastic player and you’re a natural leader.”

Oliver took the words in as the other man had said them. Captain was the only thing that was missing from his professional career and now there was a chance he could fulfil yet another dream of his. Maybe it would be better than he first thought.

“So, do you want to accept the transfer?” Dean’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Or do I need to organize a retirement announcement for you?”

Oliver took a deep breath. “I’ll take the transfer.”

“Great!” Dean clapped his hands together. “I’ll let the Falcons and Puddlemere know right away.” There was a large grin across his face. “The deal will be effective as of the start of the next season so your training with Puddlemere will stop from now.”

Oliver nodded but didn’t speak. His stomach swirled uncomfortably. This was the end of his time at Puddlemere, the finality of it making him feel anxious for what would be his next steps. He’d made friends with the entire team, had almost grown up with them as they all developed into the player’s that they were today. There was a hollow feeling inside of him at never really playing with any of them again.

“Right. So the Falcons are getting together at O’Flannery’s pub in Falmouth tonight at 7. They specified that if you were interested to join the team for a proper introduction.” Dean rattled off, ignoring the strange look on Oliver’s face. “Got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” Oliver mumbled distractedly.

“I’ll be in touch once I’ve got the official contract from the Falcons.” Dean said with finality. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Oliver mumbled as he removed himself from the fireplace. He watched the green flames disperse immediately once he’d pulled his head out.

He let out a heavy sigh that he hadn’t realised he was holding in. His future had just changed massively. He only hoped tonight would at least go smooth.

\---

Oliver didn’t know how long he stood outside of the pub; the sky overheard growing darker with each passing moment. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his stomach swirling with nerves as if this was the first Qudditch match of the season. He supposed he was nervous. He was never really the best at first meetings and he knew that it would always take a few times before he felt comfortable enough around other people.

He knew this was different though. It wasn’t like the first time he walked through the doors at Puddlemere. He’d been eighteen back then, wide eyed and much too eager. He was twenty-seven now, a lot wiser and he’d be captaining this side. He took in a shaky breath as he tried to compose himself. He could hardly believe he’d be captaining half a team that spent the majority of their time in school trying to knock him off his broom.

He heard a loud crack behind him that made him jump slightly. He realised that he’d been lingering here for far too long. It was time for him to act his age and act like the captain he was going to be.

He walked in the direction of the pub, closing the gap between where he was and the front door in no time at all. He grabbed the gold handle of the dark coloured door, turning it to the right before he stepped inside of the establishment.

He was immediately overwhelmed by the noise from inside of the small pub, the loud chatter from the many patrons bouncing off of the walls and causing it to echo almost obscenely. He’d been cautious tonight to ensure that he’d worn muggle clothing in the form of a pair of well worn, light grey skinny leg jeans and a black sweater. But he quickly saw that he needn’t have bothered. Nearly every patron was dressed in robes while the bartenders waved their wands to levitate the next round of drinks across the pub.

His brown eyes scanned the pub for any sign of familiarity but his new team didn’t stand out whatsoever. He made his way towards the bar; narrowly avoiding the stumbling witches and wizards who’d clearly had far too much to drink. He reached the bar and immediately caught the attention of one of the bartenders. “I’m here to meet with the Falcons. Can you direct me to where they are, please?”

“Sorry mate, it’s very loud in here. Can you repeat that?” The bartender almost yelled back at Oliver.

“The Falcons.” Oliver answered voice louder this time. “Where are they?”

“Over in the corner.” The bartender gestured to the right hand corner of the pub. “Didja want a drink, mate?”

“I’ll have a beer, thanks.” Oliver responded, retrieving the correct amount of money from his pocket and handing it over to the bartender as he handed Oliver his beer.

Oliver turned away and took a sip from his glass before making his way over to where the rest of his new team were sitting. There were eight people milling around a few of the tables right in the corner, the rest of the patrons inside appearing to give them a wide berth. He watched as the eldest of the group turned to see him, a large smile appearing on his face.

The man was probably a head shorter than the rest of the team, light brown hair with a thick moustache. He was thickset man with a large stomach that looked as though it was straining against the plaid shirt he had on underneath his dark grey robes. He had a kind face with light green eyes that were framed by his black, square shaped glasses.

“Oliver Wood!” His voice carried across the space despite the noise from everyone else inside. The older man raced over and eagerly shook Oliver’s hand. “So glad you could make it tonight!” He grinned. “Simon Priestly, coach.”

“Nice to meet you.” Oliver returned the pleasant smile.

“I can’t tell you how glad we all are to have you as a part of our team.” Simon grinned. “As our captain!” His grin appeared to grow larger if possible. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the team.

Oliver felt himself being pulled over towards where three men were standing, chatting over their beers. He instantly recognised the tallest of the three as Ryan Johns. The man had dark hair with the slightest fleck of grey hair and broad shoulders, his cloak concealing no doubt the strong and toned muscles underneath. Ryan was the former Captain and Keeper of the Falcons, announcing his retirement at the end of the last season.

The other two he was less familiar with. The shortest of the three had jet black hair, combed over to the left hand side. He had a stern face with jutting cheekbones and full lips. He had light green eyes that stood out strikingly from his dark coloured skin. The other man had strawberry blonde hair with blue eyes, freckles standing out against his pale skin. Oliver thought he was quite a good looking man.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Oliver Wood.” Simon said from beside him. “I’m sure you are familiar with this guy, Ryan Johns. Our retiring Captain after all.” Ryan smiled as he reached his hand out for Oliver to shake. “And these two are our Beaters. Timothy Guilford-” Oliver shook the hand of the shortest man. “-and Frederic Everhart.” He shook the hand of the other man, a smirk on the other man’s face.

“Nice to meet you all.” Oliver smiled back at them all. He lifted his glass up to his lips and took a drink.

“I think you’ll be a real asset to the team, Oliver.” Ryan said. “I pushed for the Falcons to get you, you know. I’ve been watching your last season, you are a great Keeper.”

“Thank you.” Oliver responded. He took another sip from his glass. “It’s nice to hear those words coming from such a player as yourself.”

“Puddlemere were crazy to not try harder to keep you.” Frederic spoke up, his blue eyes focused on Oliver.

“Well, he’s our gain, isn’t he?” Timothy grinned. “Have you only played for Puddlemere?”

“Yeah, played for them since I finished school actually.” Oliver answered. “It’s going to be weird not playing for them. It’s also going to be weird playing in a male only team.”

“The Falcons are a bit of a boys club.” Ryan replied with a shrug. “But it’s not like we haven’t tried to get any female talent here. We tried to get Gwenog Jones back in the day but she wasn’t interested.”

“I guess we play too rough for them.” Frederic grinned, taking a sip from his glass.

“Oliver, let’s get you introduced to the rest of the team.” Simon chimed up out of nowhere and directed him over to the other table where there were the four remaining players of their team.

Oliver looked over at the table, the four former Slytherin’s deep into a conversation. He regarded the four men from a distance. He couldn’t say that they looked the same as when they were in school but there were definite similarities between them, making it clear who they were.

Terence Higgs still had almost the same haircut as he did all those years ago, blonde hair spiked up at the front, his large blue eyes still the same, cold for those he didn’t like and warm for those he did. He had a slighter build than the rest of the team but he didn’t need to be muscular to play Seeker. Adrian Pucey sat to the left of Terence, black hair slicked over to the side. His sharp cheekbones on display against his strong jaw, his dark eyes intently locked onto whatever Terence was talking about.

Next to Adrian was Cassius Warrington. His dark blonde hair a little unkempt in comparison to the rest of him. He had a stern look on his face, his immaculate robes hiding the built body beneath them. And finally on the end of the table was Graham Montague. Graham was the shortest of the four but was the broadest. His short brown hair shaved short against his scalp. He had an unfriendly look on his face as he listened to the conversation around them, intermittently taking sips of his beer.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Oliver Wood.” Simon grinned at the table. All four eyes flicked over to Oliver in a curious fashion. “This is Terence Higgs, our Seeker.” Oliver extended a hand which Terence politely shook. “And these three are our Chasers. Adrian Pucey.” Oliver shook his hand, eyes locked onto Pucey’s as he did. “Cassius Warrington.” Warrington almost glared as he shook Oliver’s hand. “And Graham Montague.” Oliver had to restrain his laughter as Graham’s lips twisted into a big smile at their handshake.

“I’m just going to the bar; I’ll leave you to it.” Simon excused himself from the table.

“Captain, my Captain.” Cassius did a mock bow as he spoke, glaring daggers at the other man. “I’m surprised the mighty lion wanted to Captain a team that’s mostly snakes.”

“Warrington, play nice.” Terence reprimanded the Chaser. He turned back to Oliver, his eyes looking up and down the Keeper’s body. “Nice of you to dress up for the occasion tonight.”

“I didn’t know if this was a muggle pub or not.” Oliver replied shortly.

Adrian rolled his eyes. “C’mon Wood. You think we’d agree to meet at a muggle pub?”

“I thought all of these prejudices stopped at the end of the War.” Oliver responded before taking another sip from his glass.

“Not prejudiced.” Adrian replied with a shrug. “I just prefer spending my spare time in magic only establishments.”

Oliver rolled his eyes that time. He turned back to Terence. “You know, I am surprised to see you in the professional leagues given how little Quidditch you played in school after Flint replaced you.”

“Yeah, well. It was annoying that I got replaced by that Malfoy brat.” Terence said sharply. “It took a lot of perseverance on my part and a few connections from Marcus to get me a tryout and here we are.”

“I don’t believe it.” Oliver responded with a short laugh. “Flint actually going out of his way to help someone else.”

“Why so unbelievable?”

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Oliver didn’t need to turn around to see who that voice belonged to. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a long drink before he turned around to see his former school Quidditch rival standing there, arms folded tightly across his chest with an almost smirk on his lips. His brown eyes locked with those of the other man, the same feeling of competitiveness that always burned inside him when he saw the older man making it known.

He took in the form of Marcus Flint. The older man was only ever slightly taller than he was but he was always bigger. His broad shoulders looked as though they had filled out since school, the muscles visible even underneath his robes. His jet black hair was cut short, shaved at the side leaving a small amount longer on the top of his head that was gelled over to the right hand side.

He felt his eyes narrowing slightly as their eyes stayed locked, both sets of brown and grey orbs almost sizing each other up with no necessity for words. He noticed how Marcus’ face looked slightly different to school, the Chaser growing into his features, strong jaw set with cheekbones that seemed to pop out with that stupid smirk he had on his face.

He couldn’t stop the slight flush that he knew was creeping over his cheeks. There weren’t really any other words for it, Flint was hot. He internally kicked himself as the words crept into his mind, definitely embarrassed that he’d even thought this.

“Evening, Wood.” Marcus’s smirk grew as he regarded the other man in front of him. “Now what is this about it being so unbelievable for me to help someone? To help my friend?”

Oliver let out a shaky breath before he spoke. “Just doesn’t seem like your kind of thing. Doesn’t really add up to the person I knew in school.”

“You don’t know me.” Marcus said sharply. He allowed his arms to drop to his sides. “Weekly Captain’s meetings with Davies and whatever loser they chose each year from Hufflepuff doesn’t mean you know me.”

“You just always seemed to care only about yourself.” Oliver responded.

“And?” Marcus balked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It doesn’t really add up to you helping Higgs though getting a tryout.” Oliver replied.

“Higgs is my friend. I thought Gryffindor’s knew all about loyalty.” Marcus said sharply.

Oliver narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why are you here anyway? This is a Falcons thing; it has nothing to do with the Magpies.”

“Higgs invited me.” Marcus answered. “His plus one if you will.”

Oliver turned to look at his new Seeker for a moment. “What? Are you two, like, dating?”

“Gross. No, thank you.” Terence said loudly.

“That’s not what you used to say.” Marcus grinned, laughing as Terence’s cheeks flushed.

“Nice to see you got your teeth fixed.” Oliver remarked, Marcus’ dark eyes flicking their attention back to him. “Troll teeth no longer in fashion?”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Why did you come to the Falcons? Did you get sick of the losers at Puddlemere?”

“It’s not really your concern, Flint.” Oliver said through gritted teeth.

“I’m just surprised is all?” Marcus grinned. “Puddlemere play the same goody two-shoes style that all you Gryffindors used to play whereas the Falcons are a bit rougher. Didn’t think you were into that.”

“You don’t know what I’m into.” Oliver said quickly.

“Don’t I?” Marcus asked. “Or are the rumours about how you can handle a broomstick not true?”

Oliver felt his face flush. “You believe that crap, do you?”

“What? It’s not true?” Marcus grinned. “Such a shame.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” He turned on his heel and walked away from the table and back towards the other table with the rest of his new team.

Marcus drew his gaze away from where the other man had stormed away to and looked at his four friends at the table. There was annoying look already on Terence’s face and he rolled his eyes in anticipation. “What?”

“You know what.” Terence snapped back. “I didn’t invite you here so that you could piss him off. He might not be your captain but he is ours.”

Marcus looked over to where Oliver was standing, talking quite happily with the other table. “Well, at least we still know that he fucking hates me.”

“Yeah. Because you were acting like a twelve year old.” Adrian spoke up. He looked the older man up and down once. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Were you not listening?” Marcus snapped. “Higgs invited me.”

“ _Why_?” Cassius complained loudly. “For once, it’s not all about you, Mr two-time League player of the year.”

“It’s three-time, actually.” Marcus corrected him. “Higgs thought I’d like to come tonight, that’s why he invited me.”

“What? Have you _still_ got a crush on Wood, have you?” Adrian sniggered.

“I don’t have a _crush_.” Marcus snapped.

Adrian snorted into his beer. “I’ll believe _that_ when I see it.”

Terence glanced over at the other table, keenly aware of the way that Everhart was looking at their new Captain. “At any rate, I think you blew it tonight.” He commented, taking a sip from his glass of red wine. “Getting into an argument with him is hardly going to win you any favours.”

“I know but it’s hard not to. He’s just so easy to stir up.” Marcus responded. His eyes followed over to where the other man was standing, an uncomfortable swirling in his stomach as he saw the closeness between the two men. “Who is that talking to him?”

Adrian glanced over, a smirk growing on his lips. “Frederic Everhart. Dreamy, isn’t he?”

Marcus scoffed. “Hardly.”

“No need to get jealous, Flint.” Adrian grinned. “We can introduce you to him if you’re interested?”

“No thanks.” Marcus answered immediately. “Too much of a Charlie Weasley vibe.”

“Maybe that’s why.” Terence commented before draining the last of his glass. “Drink, Marcus?”

Marcus nodded and waited for Terence to stand before they made their way to the bar. He ordered himself a beer and Terence another glass of wine. He could feel the other man’s eyes watching him. He turned to look at his friend. “What?”

“When did you get so hot?” Terence blurted out, graciously accepting the glass of wine from his friend.

Marcus cocked an eyebrow up. “No.”

“What?” Terence asked before taking a sip from his glass.

“We’re not doing this-” Marcus gestured between them. “-again. Anyway, aren’t you trying to get in Pucey’s pants?”

“It’s not really happening.” Terence answered with a shrug. “Look. I can help you with Oliver but you have to not be such a dick to him. Do you think you can do that?”

“I dunno.” Marcus answered, dark eyes glancing back to where the other man was. “I guess I can try.”

Terence rolled his eyes. “Don’t ever change, Marcus.”

\---

Oliver was relieved when he heard Simon call an end to their practice. He knew that the Falcons were a lot more physical a team than what Puddlemere ever were but he still felt like he’d been caught off guard by the vigorous training session. He’d certainly been put through his paces by the drills they’d all gone through as a team and while he was exhausted, he knew that in the long term it would make him a much better player.

He let out a groan as his feet touched the ground, his exhaustion seemingly taking him over all at once. He carefully dismounted his broom before slinging it over his shoulder. He undid the top two buttons on his practise robes, letting out a sigh of relief as he felt the slight brush of the early evening breeze caress his skin.

He glanced around at the rest of the team, lifting his right hand to wipe his sweaty forehead before making his way over to the coach. He was dimly aware of the fact that someone was watching him but he didn’t pay much attention to it. He wanted this training session to be over so he could have a shower.

The team gathered in a small circle around their coach, every player standing over their shorter, stouter coach. Simon smiled up at them, clapping his hands together as he did. “Great practise everyone! The league won’t know how to handle us once the season starts!” He praised them all. “Oliver, how did you find your first practice as a Falcon?”

“It was great.” Oliver answered. “It was a lot more physical than any of the practices we ever had at Puddlemere. But not surprising due to the nature of the way the team plays.”

“Not too rough for you here, is it Wood?” Cassius laughed loudly.

“Not at all.” Oliver replied. He looked at their coach, a tense kind of look on his face as he glanced between them. “It reminds me of being back in school with the lot of you. At least you’ll be on the winning side this time, Warrington.”

Cassius rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak before Simon beat him to it. “That’ll do for today, gents. I will see you all the same time tomorrow!”

Cassius mumbled something under his breath before he stalked back towards the change room with Graham and Adrian in tow.

Oliver rolled his eyes and readjusted his heavy broom that was slung over his shoulder before he began his walk towards their change rooms. He’d barely taken a few steps before he heard his name being called from behind him. He turned his head and saw Terence catching up to him. He regarded the other man for a moment. “Yes?”

“Wood.” Terence started. “About the other night-”

“What about it?” Oliver said sharply. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Frederic was lingering around, no doubt trying to catch his attention.

“Look, Marcus, he, um, he’s not all that bad.” Terence started. He could feel the flush growing up his cheeks. He glanced to the side for a moment and could see Frederic eavesdropping. “Move along, Everhart! This is a private conversation!”

Oliver watched as the younger man hurried ahead of them. “There’s no need to yell at him.”

“He was eavesdropping!” Terence protested.

“On what?” Oliver snapped. “I’ll be honest; talking about Flint is not my favourite topic.”

“He really isn’t all that bad though.” Terence responded. “He is a great friend to those who are close to him.”

“And I care why?” Oliver asked sharply. “He’s still the same annoying, immature arsehole he was back in school.”

“He’s really not. He has changed somewhat since school.” Terence could tell that Oliver knew he was lying but he promised Marcus he would try. “And besides, you started the argument the other night.”

“How did I start it?” Oliver asked. “What? Because I found it hard to believe that he actually did something nice for someone else.”

“That and you were rude about his teeth.” Terence responded. “You might have had one too many bludger hits to the head which might have made you a bit dim but you are certainly not blind. He doesn’t look anything like he did back in school.”

“Sounds like you appreciate the fact that he made a good decision to change his face then.” Oliver quickly replied. He readjusted the broom on his shoulder.

“I, of course, can appreciate a good looking man, friend or not. Can you?” Terence smirked at his captain.

“I can.” Oliver answered. “It’s just a shame that the face belongs to Flint.”

Terence regarded the other man for a moment. “Look, some of the players and I are going out for some dinner and drinks tonight. Would you care to join us?”

“Is Flint going to be there?” Oliver asked.

“Probably.” Terence answered with a shrug. “It depends on what time his practice with the Magpies finishes.”

Oliver thought about his answer for a moment, stopping only to open the door to their locker room. He could see practice robes strewn everywhere along the wooden benches in the room and the sound of the shower running was echoing in his ears. He turned back to the Seeker. “Thanks for the invite but no. I’d rather not spend my evening getting into an argument with him.”

“I can have a word to him. I can tell him _not_ to argue with you.” Terence said quickly. “C’mon Wood, uh, Oliver, we all want to get to know you a bit better now that you’re our captain.”

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Higgs.” Oliver replied. He carefully pulled his broom off of his shoulder and allowed it to lean against his designated locker. His hands moved up to begin unbuttoning his practice robes. He turned to look at the other man. “Besides, I already have plans tonight.”

“With who? Not Everhart, surely?” Terence asked quickly. He placed his own broom next to his locker and began to disrobe himself.

“What? No.” Oliver scoffed. He shrugged off the sweaty practice robes, allowing them to carelessly drop to the floor. He bent down slightly to undo the laces on his Quidditch boots, kicking them away and ignoring the thud they made as they collided with his locker. “I’m having dinner with Percy.”

“The Weasley Head Boy prat?” Terence asked. “Is there something more with you two?”

“Definitely not.” Oliver answered. “And don’t call him that.” He added as he removed the sweat soaked singlet he was wearing underneath his robes. He allowed it to drop into his growing pile of clothing on the floor.

“Where are you two going?” Terence asked curiously. He was not so subtly checking out the man before him. Oliver was definitely fit. He had firm pectorals that sat above his well-defined stomach. He watched a droplet of sweat dribble down his stomach, stopping only when it was caught by the waistband of his tight, leather pants.

“So the rumours about you in school were true then.” Oliver grinned as he watched the way the other man was looking at him.

“What? The one about how I used to blow Davies behind the Quidditch pitch?” Terence asked as he watched Oliver nod. “It’s true. Are the rumours about you true?”

“I’ll leave that up to you to work out.” Oliver answered. He kept looking over at the other man as he undid his belt before he pulled his tight pants and down to his ankles, breaking his contact when he bent down to pull them fully off, letting them join his growing pile of clothes.

He stood back up and reached into his locker to retrieve his clean towel and toiletries. He placed the items under each arm before he pulled his damp pair of black briefs off; kicking them away to join his pile of dirty, sweat damp clothes.

“Oh fuck.” Terence said quietly. He felt his mouth go dry as he looked at his captain’s naked form barely a few metres away from him. He’d never really thought Oliver was that attractive but now seeing the other man like this got him thinking. Made him realise what Marcus saw in him.

“Best thing about playing in an all-male Quidditch team is you can get completely naked like this.” Oliver grinned over at Terence as he left the room and headed to the showers.

Terence just stared after his captain for longer than he should have.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hot, sweaty, naked Oliver? Well, who could resist? Thank you reading, leaving a kudos, bookmarking and leaving comments. Look forward to hearing what you think. Thanks again! GatesVengeance


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Marcus couldn’t concentrate on the plate of food in front of him. He could always pretend that it was because he was tired from his earlier practice with the Magpies but it certainly wasn’t that. His dark eyes kept glancing up towards the door, half expecting and half hoping that the person he wanted to see would come strolling through the door.

He hated to feel like this, all desperate. Flint’s weren’t desperate his father used to remind him. And they certainly didn’t wait for someone else to make the move. He let out a breath, eyes looking down at the steak and lifting the piece he’d cut previously up to his lips with his fork. He couldn’t help but let his dark grey eyes glance over at the door.

He could see the very pretty blonde girl near the door give him a look of pure want. He was sure that she no doubt thought that every time he was looking over at the door that he was looking at her. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept across his face. Being a world famous Quidditch star certainly had its perks and if he couldn’t have who he wanted, she would surely do for a night.

“Marcus, I already told you he’s not coming.” Terence’s voice carried across the table.

Marcus turned to look at his oldest friend. He watched the other man take a sip from his glass of wine. “Yeah. I know. Cause he thinks I’m immature and annoying.”

“Yes. And he doesn’t want to get into an argument with you.” Terence responded taking another sip from his glass. “So stop looking at the door. You’re giving that girl the wrong idea.”

“Am I?” Marcus grinned back at his friend. “I can’t stop that I can garner this kind of attention.”

“You’re so full of it.” Adrian rolled his eyes before he took a bite from his meal. “Anyway, did Wood tell you he wasn’t interested in Flint before or after he dropped his pants in front of you?”

“Gross.” Graham muttered from beside Flint, putting his fork down immediately. “Some of us are trying to eat here.”

“Shut up, Montague.” Marcus said sharply. He turned to Terence. “I’m sorry, _what_ did he do in front of you?”

Terence felt his cheeks flush instantly. “To be fair, he was changing getting ready for his shower and he just happened to get completely naked in front of me.”

Adrian grinned at Marcus. “Are you going to tell Flint how big he was or just have him wait to find out?”

Terence felt his cheeks get warmer by the second. “Shut up, Pucey. You’re the one who was taking a peek yourself in the showers so why don’t you tell him?”

“I was not peeking!” Adrian protested. “What’s the harm in looking anyway?”

“You two are fucked.” Graham commented. “Where is Warrington anyway? How come he was able to escape this?”

“He had prior plans with Eloise.” Terence made a gagging face. “And besides, no one is making you stay Montague.”

“Whatever.” Graham responded and went back to his food. He glanced over at his former captain. “You’re very quiet Flint.”

Flint took in a deep breath but ignored the man sitting next to him. “For your information, Pucey, I’m not desperate to see him naked. If you remember, we used to share the Prefects bathroom.”

“Oh, but he looks better after school.” Adrian grinned as he reached for his glass of beer and took a sip. “That body of his is all filled out now. He hides it away which is a shame.”

“And you’re calling me desperate?” Marcus laughed. “Put your tongue back in your mouth and stop drooling already. It’s embarrassing.”

“Says you whose been staring at the door for the past hour hoping he’ll come through the door.” Adrian snapped back.

“Shut up, Pucey.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you’re annoying.” He lifted his glass to his lips and drained the last of the beer. “I’m getting another drink.”

He didn’t wait to hear if any of his friends wanted another drink as he stood from the table, the chair scaping across the hard flooring. He adjusted his jacket as he made his way closer to the bar. He felt uncomfortable wearing the muggle garment of clothing, as he was usually always wearing cloaks.

He didn’t know why Terence had picked a muggle pub but at least there was good food and even better beer here. He could feel a pair of eyes following his path to the bar and he definitely knew that they belonged to the pretty girl near the bar. He felt his lips twitch into a smirk.

He approached the bar, waiting only a moment for the bartender to move towards him and for him to give his order. He’d barely handed over the money to the other man when he felt a hand grab at his forearm. He turned his head to the left and was met by a pair of piercing blue eyes. He regarded the pretty blonde in front of him for a moment, her full lips accentuated by red lipstick while her tight, short black dress showed off her assets.

“Good evening.” Marcus said politely to her. He could see the same look of lust in her eyes that he saw from across the room.

“Hi.” She grinned at him, her accent on display.

“American, huh?” Marcus smirked back at her. “You’re a long way from home.”

“It’s more fun across the pond.” She grinned back. “I’m Amanda. But you can call me Mandy.”

“Do you know who I am?” Marcus asked after a sip from his beer. “Or do you just like the way I look?”

“Of course I know who you are.” Mandy grinned at him. “How could I not recognize you? You’re Marcus Flint. Chaser for the Montrose Magpies and three-time best player in the league.” She licked her lips as she stared hungrily up at him. “It seems you’re more surprised to find that I’m a witch.”

“I normally don’t get to run into witches that look like you.” Marcus responded.

Mandy’s grin grew. “Well it’s also not every day you go out to dinner and see a table full of hot Quidditch players.”

Marcus laughed. “Today must be your lucky day then.”

“Might be yours too.” She all but purred at him.

Marcus lifted his glass to his lips and took another long drink. He tore his eyes away from the attractive woman in front of him to survey the rest of the pub. His dark eyes roamed across the establishment, taking in the many different faces of the patrons. He was about to turn his attention completely back to Mandy when someone caught his eye right in the opposite corner of the pub.

“Wood.” He breathed out. There was Oliver sitting at a table with none other than Percy Weasley, almost matching smiles on their faces as they conversed together. There was a carefree look on Oliver’s face, his lips pulled permanently into a wide smile. He never thought Percy to be all that interesting if he was honest.

“Would what?” Mandy’s voice cut through the silence.

“Huh?” Marcus finally turned to look back at her.

“You said ‘would’.” Mandy answered sharply. “Would what? Would I like to go home with you?” She added, eying him curiously. “Cause the answer is yes.”

Marcus was taken aback by her forwardness. “I wasn’t going to be so forward.” He laughed, watching her lips curl back into a smirk. “But not yet.” Her smirk faltered slightly. “I’ll come find you soon.”

Mandy’s eyes narrowed at him. “Maybe I won’t be waiting.”

Marcus smirked and leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “We both know you will be.”

He turned away from her, not bothering to see the look of shock on her face as he walked back to the table where his friends were sitting. He took his seat again and placed his beer not so gently on the table. “He’s here.”

Terence looked unamused. “Who is here?”

“Wood.” Marcus answered instantly. “He’s in the corner with Weasley.”

“And?” Terence asked before taking a sip from his glass. “Go and talk to him then.”

“What about your friend, Flint?” Graham grinned. “Can you introduce me to her? Seeing as how you’ll be busy tonight.”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth, Montague.” Marcus snapped. “I’ll be busy with her later tonight.”

Graham rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think the great Marcus Flint fucked muggles.”

“I don’t. She’s a witch.” Marcus responded before he drained the rest of his beer. “Did you know Wood was going to be here tonight?”

“He said he was going out for dinner tonight.” Terence shrugged. “I guess maybe he and I live near each other. I only picked this place because it’s close to my flat.”

“Are you going to go and talk to him?” Adrian asked.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

\---

Oliver was completely unaware of anything outside of what was happening on his and Percy’s table. The slightly older redhead was rabbiting on about something or another while he half pretended to listen. He hated to admit that he’d been slightly preoccupied with what had happened only a few hours prior after his training session.

He’d been completely thrown off guard when Terence had started to talk to him about Flint. He didn’t care that the former Slytherin ‘wasn’t all that bad’ and he certainly didn’t need to spend any additional time with him just because. Their first chance meeting outside of the Quidditch pitch had been odd enough, let alone finding out that Terence had invited him there. He just knew that his new Seeker was up to something and that didn’t sit well with him at any level.

He took a sip from his beer, nodding in tune to whatever the hell Percy was talking to animatedly about. He couldn’t deny the way that his heart had started to beat a little quicker in his chest when he finally came face to face with that of his former school rival. He also couldn’t change the way that his stomach swirled uncomfortably in anticipation of what would happen next.

He would be naïve to deny that there was always a sort of spark between them. He would always put it down to the fact that it was competitive. That he just _had_ to be better than the other man but he knew deep down that that wasn’t quite the case. His ex-boyfriends and lovers were evidence of that.

“Oliver. Are you even listening to me?” Percy asked sharply, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Yeah, yeah.” Oliver dismissed, reaching for his glass of beer to take a sip.

“Oh really?” Percy gave him a look over his horn rimmed glasses that told him he really didn’t believe it. “What was I saying?”

“Well.” Oliver couldn’t help the large grin that grew across his face. “I can tell you that you weren’t talking about Quidditch.”

“Honestly Oliver.” Percy rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. “You’re very distracted tonight.”

Oliver shrugged. “Just thinking about something from earlier.”

“Anything you care to elaborate on?” Percy asked.

“Not particularly.” Oliver answered. “How’s the wedding planning going?”

Percy let out a heavy sigh. “Audrey is being quite challenging at the moment.” He answered. “She has asked me several times now if you’ll be bringing a date or if you’ll be springing one on us close to the wedding.”

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. “If your wedding was tomorrow, I’d have no date but seeing as it is nearly eight months away, I may well spring someone on you.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Percy asked curiously.

“Not at the moment.” Oliver answered. “I have a teammate who is showing some interest in me but I don’t think so. He reminds me too much of your brother.”

“Let me guess, Charlie?” Percy asked while he took a drink from his beer.

“Well he is the only one of your brothers to hit on me.” Oliver laughed. “He’s too much of a goody two-shoes for me.”

“Yeah cause the last boyfriend you had was great.” Percy rolled his eyes. “Why do you always insist on bringing us to muggle places when we have dinner?”

Oliver shrugged. “It’s nice to not be recognized sometimes. Believe it or not, I don’t like being splashed across Witch Weekly every other week.”

“Perhaps you should show some decorum then when you go out.” Percy pointed out. “And perhaps you should wait until you’re in the privacy of your own home before you’re all over someone.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Oliver grinned.

He found himself glancing over towards the bar, his heart starting to hammer in his chest. Standing there at the bar was Flint, very obviously flirting with quite an attractive woman. He watched them closely for a moment, carefully dissecting their body language before he tore his eyes away. He could tell what was going to happen between them and it did nothing but unsettle him.

Percy glanced over at the bar and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Well that certainly explains it.”

“Explains what?” Oliver asked quickly, willing himself to not look over.

“It explains why all of your boyfriends all seem to look and act the same.” Percy smirked. “I think I’ve worked out your type.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I do _not_ have a type.”

“Okay, Oliver.” Percy grinned at his friend.

Oliver opened his mouth to respond but found he couldn’t, instead resigning himself to the fact that his best friend probably was right, after all. Percy was very rarely wrong and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the other man was right. He lifted his glass to his lips and drained the last of the alcoholic beverage from it.

“Evening gentlemen.”

Oliver felt himself tense at the words. He carefully placed the empty glass back onto the table before turning to the man who was standing at the side of their table. He looked up at the other man, trying not to focus on the fact that the clothing the older man had chosen to wear tonight perfectly fit to his muscular form. “What are you doing here?”

Marcus laughed. “Am I not allowed to be here?”

“You can do whatever you want.” Oliver said quietly. He could feel the look that his best friend was giving him and he was deliberately ignoring it.

“Thanks for the permission.” Marcus gave him the thumbs up. “Are you both having a good evening?”

“We are. How very-” Percy started but was immediately cut off by Oliver.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Oliver said sharply.

“Didn’t I?” Marcus grinned. He could see the visible irritation across Oliver’s face. “I’m here having dinner with some friends. And unless you have memory issues, you were invited to.”

“I had other plans.” Oliver replied quickly.

“I can see that.” Marcus said. “Higgs also told me that you didn’t want to spend your evening getting into an argument with me. Is that true?”

“Are you really that unaware of how annoying you are?” Oliver asked sharply.

“There you are starting it again.” Marcus grinned.

“You start it, you always start it.” Oliver replied. “You always have.”

“Then why do you bite if you don’t want an argument?” Marcus asked. He grabbed at the empty chair that was near the end of the table. “May I?”

“No. You may not.” Oliver answered quickly.

Marcus ignored Oliver’s response and pulled the empty chair out before taking a seat. He turned away from Oliver for a moment and looked at Percy. “Weasley. How are you?”

Percy turned away from his friend to look at Marcus. “I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?” He watched the older man nod in response. “My congratulations to you for your League player of the year award. Third time I believe? I don’t follow the sport but Oliver, of course, told me all about it.”

“Thank you.” Marcus smirked. He glanced sideways to where Oliver was sitting. “It’s nice that my fellow players are praising me.”

“I certainly wasn’t praising you.” Oliver narrowed his eyes at Percy who was pointedly not looking at him. “I said it was no surprises that a team who cheats to stay at the top has their best player win the award.”

“Bit of a backhanded compliment there, Wood.” Marcus let out a laugh. “Maybe you’ll have some success now you’ve finally left Puddlemere.”

“Are you done ruining my night now?” Oliver asked.

“Ruining?” Marcus balked. “Surely I’m improving it by having someone like me in your presence.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and looked over towards the bar. The girl that Marcus was chatting closely to before was standing there, looking anxiously over at where he was. “You’re being awfully rude to your little girlfriend at the bar, you know.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Marcus made a face.

“Well, whatever she is to you, it’s rude to leave her hanging.” Oliver responded. “Maybe you should leave us alone now and get back to her.”

Marcus turned to look at Percy. “Have a good night, Weasley.” He stood up and without a second glance he walked away from the table.

“How can someone be so rude?” Oliver sighed.

“Oliver, I think you’re the one being rude.” Percy said quietly.

Oliver didn’t answer, his gaze following over to the bar where he saw Marcus reunite with the blonde woman. He watched their interaction carefully, watched the way that they were with each other, the deliberate flirting and secret glances shared. He felt the pang of jealousy pool in his stomach as he watched Flint wrap one of his arms around her shoulders as they went to leave the pub.

The pair only separated for a moment for Flint to open the door for the woman. The other man glanced over at Oliver and gave him a smug look, almost challenging him before he, too left the establishment.

He turned back to his friend who was watching him carefully. “You ready to go?”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Oliver, Oliver, can't resist rising to Marcus. Thanks for reading/reviewing/kudosing, any bit of feedback is appreciated. GatesVengeance


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.
> 
> Mon Fils - "my son"  
> Mon Amour - "my love"

Oliver could say that he was getting sick of seeing Marcus at almost every Falcons get together but he knew that would be a lie. He'd grown used to seeing the other man that on the rare occasion that the Chaser didn't turn up to an event he found himself hoping that Flint was merely running late. He didn't want to feel like this, hated the feeling of desperation that felt like it coursed through his veins.

He didn't really know why he cared so much. Each time he was even close enough to Flint to hold a conversation, the same bitterness and envy that was always present during their years at school continued to appear in the form of quick insults. And yet there was almost a magnetic pull that made him want to engage in each conversation.

Percy had been right. He did have a type and his type was currently across the other side of the room talking to one of his teammates.

He took a sip from his glass of firewhiskey, wincing slightly at the strong taste on his tongue. He couldn't help the way that his gaze was drawn over to the corner, his brown eyes unashamedly raking over the form of his former school rival. He wasn't blind, he could see that Marcus was hot but it wasn't that that drew him to the other man; it was that there was something exciting with him. There would always be a challenge between them whether it was on or off the pitch.

"Looking for some company?"

Oliver turned his head to the right and was disappointed that it wasn't who he was hoping, instead that it was one of teammates Frederic standing there with that stupid smile on his face. "Sure, you can join me."

"What do you say about getting out of here earlier?" Frederic grinned at him.

"Look." Oliver started. "I'm flattered but you're my teammate and I'm your captain. It wouldn't be right."

"And?" Frederic pressed. "Who cares? It shouldn't matter!"

"Look. I was trying to be polite." Oliver replied with a shrug. "You're not really my type."

Frederic's face faltered slightly. "And what is your type?"

"Tall, dark and handsome sounds about right."

Oliver didn't need to look to know who was talking but he did anyway. The other man had his usual smirk on his lips. He couldn't resist the urge to bite back. "Shame you’re missing the handsome part, Flint. You'd fit right in then."

Marcus let out a short laugh before taking a sip from his glass of firewhiskey. He could see a glimmer of excitement in Oliver's eyes, the slightly younger man's lips forming into the smallest of smirks. He glanced to the left of him, groaning inwardly at the audience they had. "Beat it, Everett."

"It's Everhart." Frederic corrected him. "You should know who I am."

Marcus blinked a few times at him. "Should I?"

Frederic scoffed. "We've played against each other a number of times."

"I guess you mustn't have been that memorable." Marcus shrugged.

"Remind me to hit a bludger at your head the next time we play." Frederic snapped. He narrowed his eyes at Marcus before he turned and left.

"You didn't have to be rude to him, you know." Oliver said before taking a sip from his glass.

Marcus just shrugged. "He was the one who wasn't taking 'no' for an answer."

"How much did you overhear?" Oliver asked.

"Enough." Marcus answered. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip. He regarded Oliver for a moment. Even though the younger man looked mostly the same as he did in school with the almost identical haircut, his face looked older, tired lines starting to crease around his eyes.

"What are you doing here tonight?" Oliver asked, a cheeky grin growing on his lips. "Don't you have your own team to annoy?"

Marcus let out a laugh. "It's much more fun being here."

"Why is that?" Oliver challenged.

"I think you know, Wood." Marcus answered. "Are you glad you have my attention?"

"I don't recall wanting your attention?" Oliver couldn't help the way his lips curled into a smirk.

"Are you quite sure about that?" Marcus asked. He lifted his glass to his lips and drained the last of it. "The way you've been staring over at me tells otherwise."

"I could have been looking at Pucey." Oliver answered.

Marcus laughed. "Should I tell him you're interested then?"

Oliver shook his head. He tried to fight the smile that growing on his lips but he found he couldn't. "He's not tall enough."

"Ah, your type." Marcus grinned. "Tell me more about it."

"It's not really any of your business." Oliver said quickly. "But I already told you that you don't fit into it. You're not handsome enough."

"You'd be lucky to land someone that looked like me." Marcus responded.

"Wow. So modest." Oliver rolled his eyes. "I can see why you're not off the market."

Marcus moved in one step closer, closing the gap between them. He watched the way the younger man's eyes opened in surprise. "What would you do if I kissed you?"

Oliver let out a shaky breath. "Probably punch you in the mouth."

Marcus grinned at him, taking advantage of his slight height advantage. "I don't think you would."

Oliver allowed his lips to twitch into a smile. "Why don't you find out?"

Marcus leaned forward. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He didn't recall ever being this nervous. He stopped suddenly when he felt a hand push at his chest. "What?"

"Not here." Oliver breathed out. "There could be reporters." He glanced around the venue, easily spotting an exit. "Follow me."

Marcus watched Oliver move away immediately and he followed a few steps behind. He could feel the eyes of others on him as he walked, ignoring the burning feeling as he moved closer to the exit door. He stepped out into the brisk night air, the start of Autumn already upon them.

He glanced around the alleyway. They were certainly alone but there was no guarantee they would be for long. He opened his mouth to say just that but stopped when he heard the tell-tale sound of wings flapping.

He felt his heartbeat increase rapidly in his chest, the very familiar black owl appearing in the small amount of light in the alleyway. He watched it land on the top of a dustbin next to where he and Oliver were standing. He could see Oliver looking at him curiously out of the side of his eyes.

He watched the owl lift its leg up and saw the parchment attached to it. He reached forward and took the parchment from the bird. He cursed when he saw the owl take off immediately.

He unrolled the parchment and read carefully over the few words that were written there. _'Marcus, I need you to come home now.'_

He scrunched the paper up. He looked at Oliver, the look of lust and excitement disappeared completely and replaced with confusion. "I'm sorry. I've got to go."

"Oh. Okay." Oliver said quietly. "Is everything alright?"

"No." Marcus answered instantly. "I'll see you around."

Oliver didn't get a chance to say anything more as he watched Marcus turn on the spot and apparate away. He felt his stomach do a backflip and then he felt like an idiot for hoping something like this would happen. He cursed under his breath before walking back into the pub and approaching the bar.

He'd barely gotten a drink when he was approached by Terence. "Yes?"

"Where's Marcus?" Terence asked. His green eyes looked very worried.

"He got an owl and had to leave." Oliver responded. He took a sip from his beer but didn't take his eyes off of his teammate.

"Was it a black owl?" Terence asked carefully.

"Yes it was." Oliver answered. "What's going on?"

Terence had a clear look of panic on his face. "I've, um, I-" he breathed out. He glanced back over to where his friends were, clearly not noticing anything. "Fuck. I've got to go."

Oliver just watched his Seeker leave the bar, feeling all the more confused than what he had been before.

\---

Marcus looked up at the dark manor in front of him, his stomach swirling uncomfortably and not just from the apparition. He could see only a few lights on in the large house, his dark eyes drawn to the window second from the right at the top of the house. He took in a shaky breath, very unsure of what he was going to find when he walked through the doors to his childhood home.

He walked along the path, past the perfectly manicured gardens that were covered in darkness. His shoes felt like they were full of concrete, dragging on the ground with his reluctance to step inside. He came to a stop in front of the large black door, his eyes staring at his family crest that was emblazed in gold right in the middle.

He let out a sigh before he took hold of the golden door handle and turned it, pushing the heavy door open. He immediately felt the cold air that washed over him. This house had never felt like home to him, the walls a constant reminder of all the bad memories. If he closed his eyes he was sure he could hear the screaming.

“Master Marcus!” A voice squeaked from beside him. “You is home!”

Marcus looked down and saw his old house elf, Barty. He couldn’t help the way his lips tugged into a small smile, the very old house elf looking up at him with a look of pure joy on his face. The house elf was starting to show his age now, tufts of white hair sprouting from his ears, his shoulders sagging as he hunched over. “Hello Barty.”

“Mistress has been expecting you.” Barty squeaked. “I will show you to her!”

“That’s okay Barty, I think I remember the way.” Marcus said quietly.

“Barty will be down here if you need me, Master Marcus.” Barty squeaked at him before he shuffled off in another direction of the house, more than likely towards the kitchen.

Marcus glanced up at the large staircase in the entrance hall, taking a few steps closer as he looked over the walls. The dark walls were covered in portraits of various members of his family throughout the years. He grimaced at the portrait right in the middle of the wall. It was a large family photo of himself, his mother and his father.

The portrait was painted nearly ten years prior once he had graduated from Hogwarts. He could remember the day vividly, his father causing a scene before they’d even started, demanding that the portrait be all about him when it was really meant to be about Marcus. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at his father who was sitting right in the middle of it on his oversized chair while his mother stood awkwardly to the side, a clear look of sadness conveyed in her bright blue eyes. The painted version of himself had his arms crossed, an annoyed look on his face.

Marcus looked incredibly like his father, almost a clone of him except for a few scars that adorned his father’s cheek and his father’s hair style. His father, Armand Flint, always had a cruel look on his face, his dark eyes permanently unfriendly and cold to anyone who dared look his way. His father’s age was present on his face, the lines forming around his eyes while his hair had grey streaking through it. His father was fifteen years older than his mother. His eyes narrowed at the portrait version of his father, his legs crossed in his expensive suit under his black cloak.

His eyes strayed over to his mother, Rosaline Flint. He bore no resemblance to his mother and had none of her characteristics. She was a beautiful woman not quite in her forties at the time of the portrait with long blonde hair that was immaculately styled into loose curls and parted to the right. She had a kind face with big, pale blue eyes that matched the rest of her delicate features. Her makeup was applied flawlessly, her lips painted red to match with her cloak that was fitted to her petite body. He could see the sadness hidden behind her eyes, her blush a little heavier than it normally would have been to hide the bruises.

He glanced over to his teenage self, cringing slightly at his haircut. He had a cold expression on his face, his dark eyes looking at his father with upmost hatred. He looked away from the portrait, ignoring the slight shuffling the three occupants were doing as he turned his attention back towards the grand staircase in front of him. He heard a cough from behind him but paid it no attention, knowing that it came from the portrait behind him.

“It’s about time you came.” He felt himself tense immediately from the sound of his father’s voice. “Your mother is not well.”

Marcus turned back to look at the man in the portrait, a smug smirk on his face that only made him feel anger. “Like you care. You never cared about her.”

“You’re such an ungrateful shit, Marcus.” Armand drawled. “All that I’ve done for you and you speak to me in that manner?”

“Fuck off.” Marcus said sharply.

He heard his father’s voice calling out to him but he ignored it as he made his ascent up the stairs towards where he knew his mother would be. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest as he walked up the stairs one by one; the only sound other than his father’s curses was the sound of him taking in deep breaths one by one.

He walked down the long hallway, past his old bedroom and all the portraits and paintings on the dark blue coloured walls, not stopping until he was in front of his mother’s room. He took a glance over to the left, feeling a cold shiver roll through him at the sight of the door to his father’s room. He knocked twice on the door, his heart beating hard in his chest. He took a deep breath while he waited.

“Enter.” His mother’s voice called out from the other side.

He reached for the door knob and turned it, stepping into the room. His mother’s bedroom was large, a King sized bed in the middle of the room against the wall that faced a grand fireplace, the embers still burning slightly making the room very warm. The room was sparsely decorated with no photos other than one that was on her bedside table. The photo was of him and his mother many years ago when he was a toddler, matching smiles on their faces as they moved around in the photo.

He made his way over to the bed, a seat already there for him. He sat down on the chair, trying to avoid looking directly at the bed. He’d known for a long while that his mother was not well but he hated to see her like this, his heart breaking at the sight of her.

He finally looked over at her, his dark eyes widening at the sight he saw. His mother was sitting up, propped up against firm pillows while a book lay open on her lap. Her beauty had deteriorated over the years, large bags under her eyes, her cheekbones jutting out almost painfully due to her weight loss over the years. Her lips curled into the smallest of smiles. “Thank you for coming, mon fils.”

“Of course I’d come, mother.” Marcus said quietly.

“I know you don’t like to see me this way.” Rosaline said quietly. She had a slight accent on her voice, owing to the fact that she was French but it was barely noticeable. His father had made sure she didn’t speak the language at all while Marcus was growing up. “I fear I don’t have much time left.”

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel the tears building at the corner of his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Mon amour.” Rosaline said quietly. She reached out with her right hand and grabbed a hold of his hand. “It is a curse of the Lestrange bloodline that affects me. I can feel myself getting weaker each day.”

“Will this curse affect me one day?” Marcus asked quietly.

“No, my darling. It only affects females.” Rosaline answered. She gripped her son’s hand tightly. “Unless you one day have a daughter.”

“I don’t see that being likely, mother.” Marcus replied, a slight smile pulling at his lips.

“I heard you arguing with your father in that awful portrait again.” Rosaline said with a smile. “You shouldn’t swear at him.”

“He started it.” Marcus said sharply. “He was trying to guilt me for not being here as often. As if he ever cared for either of us.”

“Your father, as cruel as he was, provided for us.” Rosaline replied. “He took care of us.”

“How can you say that after what he did to you? After what he did to me?” Marcus could feel the anger bubbling up in him.

“I know sweetheart but he is still your father.” Rosaline said the words quietly. She regarded her son for a moment before she spoke again. “I would like to see you play Quidditch one more time.”

“Are you sure you are well enough to come to a game?” Marcus asked.

“Perhaps not but that is my wish.” Rosaline answered. “What is the team that all your friends play for?”

“The Falcons.” Marcus answered. “We play them in week four of the league.”

“I’d like to go to that game.” Rosaline said fondly. She squeezed her only child’s hand just a bit tighter. “I have one more request from you Marcus.”

“What is that?” Marcus asked. His dark eyes never leaving his mother’s face.

“Will you please stay here in the house with me?” Rosaline asked. She saw her son tense in his chair. “I know you hate this house and all the memories that come with it but will you stay here with me until the end?”

Marcus hesitated for a moment. He let out a shaky breath before he answered. There were so many things rolling through his mind but the look on his mother’s face made it easier for him to answer. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you, mon amour.” Rosaline said quietly, her lips twitching into a smile.

There was a loud knock at the door that startled both of them. “Enter.” Rosaline called out, her blue eyes keenly focused on the door as it creaked open.

Barty strolled in first. “Mistress Rosaline and Master Marcus, I have a visitor for you both.” He squeaked loudly. “Master Terence is here to see you.”

Terence awkwardly shuffled into the room behind the house elf. He watched the house elf walk back out of the room before he spoke. “Sorry to intrude Mrs Flint.” He started. “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. Marcus never usually just up and goes when we’re out.”

“Oh, did I pull you away from something social my dear?” Rosaline turned to look at her son.

“Its fine mother. You’re more important.” Marcus said quietly.

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” Rosaline said, stifling a yawn. “Goodnight boys.”

Marcus squeezed his mother’s hand one more time before standing. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Love you.” He murmured only loud enough for her to hear before he pulled away and made his exit from the bedroom.

He could feel Terence only a few steps behind him and heard when his best friend closed the door to his mother’s room. He walked back down the hallway, stopping when he came to his old bedroom door. He could hear his friend’s footsteps behind him. He took a deep breath before he opened the door and stepped inside of the room.

He instantly felt overwhelmed by being in the confines of that space. His room remained the same as it had always been, almost preserved back to a time when things were different. He glanced around the walls, two large banners at the end of his bed, one for Slytherin and the other for the Montrose Magpies. He took a seat on the edge of his old King sized bed.

He didn’t speak until he felt the bed dip beside him. “How did you know where to find me?”

“When Wood came back in without you I asked him where you were and he said that you’d gotten an owl.” Terence answered. “She doesn’t look well.”

“She’s not.” Marcus let out a heavy sigh. “She thinks she’ll pass away soon.” He finally felt the first tear escape from his eye, the warmness rolling down his cheek. “I don’t want to lose her.”

Terence put an arm around his friend. “I’m sorry, Marc. I didn’t know she was so unwell.”

“She wants me to stay here with her until she passes.” Marcus replied.

“Are you going to?” Terence asked.

“Of course I am.” Marcus answered. “I hate this place though. Everything here reminds me of my father.”

“Your father jeered at me when I was coming up the stairs. Such a nice man.” Terence said sarcastically. He watched the way Marcus’s lip twitched slightly into a smile. He glanced around at his friend’s room. “Merlin. I haven’t been in here for ages.”

“I haven’t been in here for ages. Why do you think you’d suddenly be in my old bedroom?” Marcus asked with a laugh.

“You know what I mean.” Terence rolled his eyes. “Do you remember when your mum caught us making out in here once?” He couldn’t help the laugh that left him. “Do you think she ever told your dad?”

Marcus snorted. “I doubt it. If my father found out I was kissing another boy he would have beat the shit out of me and then thrown me out of the house.”

Terence didn’t say anything, he just watched his friend carefully. He could see the way that his friend was sitting, his shoulders hunched with a pained look on his face. “I can stay here tonight with you if you want me to.”

Marcus reached over and pulled his friend into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving a comment/kudos. I haven't had much computer access so hence the delay of updating this chapter. This chapter took a bit of a turn to show you a bit more about Marcus. Thanks again for reading! Until the next update! :) GatesVengeance


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Marcus awoke early the following morning. He blinked a few times at the almost unfamiliar surroundings until he got his bearings back. He felt his stomach twist into knots when he realised that he was in his childhood bedroom. He immediately recognised the few posters that were on the dark walls, the cold unwelcoming feeling engulfing him in the large room.

He felt the bed shift beside him and saw that Terence was sleeping soundly beside him. He remembered back to last night, the feeling of dread washing over him at the thought of not only losing his mother but also being an orphan. He was grateful for the fact that Terence had stayed with him last night in his hours of need but there was nothing more than platonic feelings between them. He had a feeling that this would not be the last time he and Terence shared a bed together.

He shuffled his way out of his bed, trying not to make too much noise as not to wake his friend. He shivered as his feet landed on the cold, wooden floor. He quickly gathered his pants and socks and pulled them on. He hastily did up the buttons on his shirt as he took a glance back at the bed, seeing that his friend was still soundly sleeping before he made his way over towards the door.

He silently slid out of his bedroom and made his way out into the long corridor. He made his way back over towards where his mother’s bedroom was. He let out a shaky breath before he lifted his hand and knocked three times on the door. “Mother?” He called through the wooden door. He waited only a moment before turning the door handle and stepping into the room.

He was greeted by an empty room with an immaculately made bed. He furrowed his brows for a moment, wondering if perhaps she was well enough to make it downstairs to have breakfast. He figured that she must have been as he stepped back out of the room, allowing the heavy door to close behind him.

He made to turn to the left and head downstairs into the main living area but something to his right drew his attention. He knew that there was nothing to that side other than one bedroom and yet his feet carried him towards the long deserted bedroom at the end of the corridor. He stopped in front of the dark door, a gold plate with the name ‘Armand’ engraved on it sat at eye level on the door.

He took a hold of the gold doorknob and turned it slightly to the right, feeling his stomach twist in knots at the thought of stepping inside. He never thought much of the fact that his parents didn’t share a bedroom, the oddity of it only pointed out by his irritating cousin when he’d come to stay. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he stepped inside of his father’s bedroom, as if the deceased man would suddenly spring up out of nowhere and launch into a tirade of abuse as he did when he was still alive.

He glanced around the dark room. It had almost a musty smell to it, no doubt due to the fact that the room had not been occupied for many years as his father had perished during the War nearly six years earlier. Barty had seemingly kept the room in almost perfect order with no traces of dust in the room and the bed made to an immaculate standard.

He’d only ever been inside of his father’s room a handful of times, usually only to be punished for some kind of wrongdoing. He felt a sense of uneasiness being inside this room again. He glanced around the bedroom. His father hated personal effects in bedrooms, only ever permitting the portraits in the hallways, all photographs locked away inside albums never to see the light of day. It surprised Marcus, however, to see a small photo frame sitting untouched on his father’s bedside table.

He moved towards it and took a seat on the bed. He let out a gasp of surprise at exactly _who_ was in the photograph. He grabbed the delicate frame and looked closely at the coloured photo, the two occupants inside the picture moving around slightly in the frame, small smiles on their almost identical faces. It was a photo of him and his father from many years ago on the day before his final year at Hogwarts. Well, the first time he’d attempted his final year at school.

It was after he had failed his seventh year that his relationship with his father had truly changed. They had never been overly close up until his seventeenth birthday but he at least knew that his father had somewhat cared about him. That had changed instantly from the moment he’d received the letter stating he hadn’t even been able to pass even one subject.

He winced slightly at the memory of his father grabbing the piece of parchment from his hands, his face faltering immediately at the words that were written there. His father had yelled at him for far too long, the insults getting more and more personal with each breath, his face growing more flushed and angry with every passing second. He didn’t even try and rebut any of the insults, his stomach swirling uncomfortably at the embarrassment of having to repeat his final year.

He couldn’t quite remember the words his father had yelled at him but he could certainly remember the feeling of his father’s hand slapping him across the face. He knew he should have fought back but in a way he felt as though he deserved it, bringing the shame he had of failing school upon his family’s name. He didn’t know how many times his father had slapped him, open fist turning into closed fist or when he’d been shoved from his chair at the dining table to land on the hard floor. He’d tried to repress the sound of his mother screaming for him to stop; only remembering the sound being here in this bedroom.

He placed the photo frame back onto the bedside table, not wanting to remember anything more from that day. He stood up quickly and made his way back out of the bedroom, allowing the heavy door to close behind him with a sense of relief. He truly hated being here again, all the memories from years before flooding back over him.

He quickly walked down the corridor, down the grand staircase at the front of the house and certainly ignoring the jeers and catcalls that came from the family portrait that was hanging on the wall. He walked around into the dining area, finding his mother sitting at the end of the table with breakfast laid out across the large table in front of her.

“Good morning, mon fils.” Rosaline said with a slight smile as she lifted her cup of tea to her lips. “Did Terence spend the night as well?”

Marcus stiffened as he went to take the seat next to his mother. He regarded her for a moment, no malice in his blue eyes, only mild curiosity. “He did.” He said quietly as he took his seat. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is. Anything to make you more comfortable, Marcus.” Rosaline answered. “Is there perhaps more between you two? I seem to remember an incident that I walked into regarding the pair of you.”

Marcus felt his cheeks flush. “No, no, nothing like that.” He said quickly. “We’re just friends.”

“Such a shame, I do like Terence.” Rosaline said fondly. “Is there anyone that you are currently seeing?”

“Uh, not at the moment, no.” Marcus answered awkwardly as he reached for a piece of food that was on one of the many plates in front of him.

Rosaline watched her son for a moment, seeing his body stiffen as he denied her question. She glanced down at the gold ring on her right hand. “Marcus, I have something for you.” She placed her cup of tea back down on the table as her son looked at her with mild curiosity. She took the ring off of her middle finger on her right hand and handed it to him. “This has been in the Lestrange family for many generations. It was my father’s ring, I wish you to have it.”

Marcus took the ring from his mother and regarded it for a moment. It was a solid gold ring with a raised platform that had the Lestrange family crest engraved on it. He had never seen the ring not on his mother’s hand. He immediately slid the ring onto the fourth finger on his right hand, surprised that it fit him quite well. He looked up at her. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, my darling.” Rosaline said with a smile. “Your father insisted on being buried with the Flint family ring but I wish you to enjoy this most prized possession of mine.”

Marcus opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. He looked over to see Barty standing there, a broad smile on his face. “Mistress Rosaline and Master Marcus, I have a guest here to see you.” His voice squeaked into the dining room. “I present to you, Mistress Narcissa.”

Marcus watched as Narcissa Malfoy strolled into the dining room as if it was her own. He watched her carefully as she removed her black travelling gloves, her cloak already removed. She looked as he had always remembered, maybe just a few years older, the lines around her eyes more prominent as she had aged. She looked remarkably alike to his mother despite the fact that they were not directly related, perhaps in a distant way that all Pureblood families were.

He stood up and walked around the table to greet her. “Aunt Narcissa.” He said politely with a soft kiss to her cheek. He’d always been made to call her Aunt despite the fact that that was not the way they were related. The way that they were in fact related was through his father. Armand Flint and Lucius Malfoy were cousins but were raised as almost brothers. It didn’t stop the competitive nature between the pair, always trying to one up the other. “Nice to see you again.”

“And you Marcus.” Narcissa said with an almost forced smile. “You certainly have grown up to be a good looking young man. I’m sure you’ve got many beautiful young ladies waiting to marry you.”

“That was Armand’s desire to have Marcus wed in the way that you and I were but it is not mine.” Rosaline said quietly. “Marcus can choose whomever he wishes to marry.”

“How progressive of you, Rosaline.” Narcissa said sharply. “Draco is set to wed Astoria Greengrass very shortly.”

“I assume our invitation has been lost in the mail then?” Rosaline asked quietly.

“Not at all.” Narcissa said with a wave of her hand. “I expect the invitations will be sent out within the next few weeks.”

“I look forward to it.” Rosaline replied as she took another sip from her cup of tea. “Would you fancy joining us, Narcissa?”

“How thoughtful, thank you.” Narcissa said quietly as she took the other seat opposite where Marcus was sitting.

Marcus was quite confused. His mother and Narcissa had never made any attempt to hide how much they didn’t like each other. They’d always pretended for the sake of their husband’s but their distaste towards one another was never exactly hidden from view. He didn’t remember when it had all started but he’d of course heard the rumours from when he was at school.

The rumours that his mother and Lucius had quite a friendship when they were younger; a closeness that should have been reserved for husband and wife and not for friends. He had never asked his mother about the rumours that she and Lucius were more than friends before they’d married their prospective spouses but he had certainly walked in on many compromising situations between them. He might have believed the rumours that he was actually Lucius’ son if not for the fact that he was the spitting image of his own father.

“Narcissa keeps me company most days now.” Rosaline’s voice carried through the silence. “She is quite a good friend to have at this stage of my life.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Rosaline.” Narcissa said quietly as she took a sip from her cup. “Perhaps if you are feeling a bit better you could make the trip to Malfoy Manor.”

“I would rather like that.” Rosaline said quietly. She turned to her son. “Marcus will be staying at the manor with me for the next little while.”

“So thoughtful of you Marcus.” Narcissa said with a small smile. “I hope this won’t impact your training schedule.”

“Not at all, Aunt.” Marcus said quietly. He turned to his mother. “I have practise today at midday. I’ll get some more things from my flat so I can move in properly.”

“Do you have any social promises to keep to tonight?” Rosaline asked curiously.

“Not at this stage, no.” Marcus answered. He heard the creak behind them and saw Terence coming in through the door. He glanced over at his Aunt and saw the interesting look in her eyes.

“Morning.” Terence said quietly as he took the seat next to Marcus.

“Did you spend the night here?” Narcissa was looking at Terence as she asked. Terence nodded and she turned her attention to Marcus. “Well, who would have thought the dribble that gets published might be true.”

Marcus almost rolled his eyes and turned to his mother. “We will get going mother and I’ll leave you to your morning.”

“Okay, darling.” Rosaline smiled. “Enjoy your practise. I’ll see you tonight.”

Marcus pulled Terence out of his chair as the pair left the room. He felt a pair of eyes locked onto the back of him, an unsettling feeling engulfing him as he left.

“I _was_ eating, you know!” Terence hissed at him as they left the room.

“You know who that was, right?” Marcus snapped. He watched his friend shrug his shoulders and shake his head. “That was Narcissa Malfoy who just presumed that you and I slept together last night.” He watched Terence give him an odd look. “Can’t wait for the owl from Draco.”

\---

Oliver was exhausted when their practise had finished. It wasn't an overly hot day but he found himself distracted from events that took place a few nights before. He found himself replaying the scenario of just before he and Marcus were about to kiss, only for the older man to have to leave unexpectedly.

He tried not to dwell on it but he found himself a little off his a-game, missing easy saves he usually could have caught with his eyes closed. He'd received a stern talking to by his coach after practice had finished a concerned look in Simon's eye while they spoke. They were only a few weeks away from the first game of the season and this would surely not do for an acceptable level of play.

He adjusted his broom over his shoulder, ignoring the slight pain that in his right shoulder, as he made his way towards the change rooms. He lifted his left hand up to wipe the sweat off of his forehead as he walked forward, groaning slightly as he went.

He could see his teammates up ahead, chatting along with each other. He'd felt as though he had fit in quite well with the rest of the team and while he was definitely not friends with any of them yet, there was a mutual respect between them. All except for Warrington, the other man seemingly still couldn't accept Oliver as his captain.

He'd just put his broom down next to his locker and was just about to remove his robes when he heard voices from the other side of the lockers.

"Did you stay with Marcus again last night?" Adrian's voice was quiet.

"Not last night." Terence answered. "He didn't want me to."

"Is he okay?" Adrian asked.

"As good as he can be, I guess." Terence replied. "He's still pretty upset."

“I wish there was something more that we could do for him.” Adrian said quietly, letting out a sigh. “Is he back living at the manor full time now?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Terence answered. “I’m sure he’ll still sneak out when he’s got someone to fuck.”

Adrian laughed. “Is he still coming out tonight?”

“I’m sure he will be. I told him Wood would be there.” Terence said with a laugh.

Oliver felt his face flush as he eavesdropped on his two teammates while they spoke as if he wasn’t there. He heard their voices slowly disappear as they must have no doubt moved away from the locker room and headed into the showers.

He felt his lips curl into an involuntary smirk as he slowly removed his practice robes, allowing them to fall into a pile next to his locker. He had a meeting with Dean once he’d showered to go over some sponsor deals the other man had lined up and then he was meeting up with the rest of the team at their local pub for some drinks.

He had a spring in his step as he made his way towards the showers knowing that Marcus would be there.

\---

Oliver knew that he shouldn't have been drinking as much as he was. He was here with his teammates and he should have been setting an example as their captain, not having glass after glass of firewhiskey. He could slowly start to feel the effects of the alcohol, his cheeks starting to flush a little. He was almost at the point where he really didn’t care anymore.

His brown eyes kept looking around the establishment, from his teammates that were gathered in their usual two groups to the other patrons in the pub and then to the door, as if he was expecting someone to walk in. He took another sip from his glass, draining the remains of it as he stumbled slightly back over to the bar.

He felt kind of stupid, expecting to see Marcus come through the doors but he couldn't help it. He'd been thinking about their almost kiss for days now, wanting more than anything another moment alone with the handsome Chaser.

"Firewhiskey, thanks." Oliver said across the bar, reaching into his pocket as he watched the bartender grab his drink for him. He'd just put his change back into his pocket when he felt the presence of someone beside him.

He turned to his left, and looked at who was standing there. He was embarrassed to say that he felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the man next to him. The man next to him was tall, had short black hair that had been styled expertly, his face was handsome with sharp cheekbones on display that went perfectly with his blue eyes. This man looked like a clone of who he'd been waiting for all night.

"Hi." Oliver said quietly. He was sure he'd seen this guy before and he was almost certain he was a fellow Quidditch player but he couldn't quite place who the man was.

"Hi." The other man replied. He could feel the way that the other man's blue eyes were deliberately looking him up and down with a clear look of lust etched in them. "You're Oliver Wood, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Oliver answered before taking a sip from his glass. "And who might you be? You look like a Quidditch player."

The other man laughed, a grin etched on his attractive face. "It's ‘cause I am." He smiled broadly at Oliver. "Tomas Bridge. I'm a Chaser for the Wasps."

"Nice to meet you Tomas." Oliver said with a smirk of his own. "What brings you here tonight?"

"I'm here with some friends and I spotted you across the room. Thought I'd try my luck." Tomas grinned at him before he took a sip from his own drink.

"Try your luck, hey?" Oliver let out a light laugh. "Who says I'm interested?"

"Are those rumours true about you?" Tomas enquired.

"I'd really love to know where these rumours started from." Oliver responded. He took a long drink from his glass, the alcohol affecting him much more. "But you are usually the type I'd go for."

“How about it, then?” Tomas grinned at him.

Oliver was certainly feeling reckless now. He drained the last of his glass and grabbed a hold of the other man’s wrist and dragged him towards the back of the establishment, towards the men’s bathrooms. He didn’t care if anyone was even looking his way or if there were any reporters around, all that he did care about was his own feeling of lust and the attractive man who’d approached him at the bar.

He pushed on the door to the men’s bathroom, ignoring the strong smells that hit his nostrils as he pulled Tomas towards him. His fingers grabbed at the front of Tomas’s shirt and pulled him closer to him while his back hit the hard brick wall behind him. He wasted no time in pressing their lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss. He was dimly aware of Tomas’s large hands grabbing at his hips while his firm, muscular body pressed into him as he allowed his eyes to close.

It had been a while since he’d hooked up with someone like this, so desperate that he couldn’t wait until they got home. He felt Tomas slide his knee in between his legs, a moan escaping his lips which allowed for the other man to slide his tongue into his mouth. He switched his grip from the front of the other man’s shirt to grab at firm muscles on his arms, another groan escaping from his lips. He couldn’t help but think that this must be what Marcus’s arms must feel like.

He let out another groan and pressed harder into the kiss. One hand reached up to grab at the back of Tomas’s head, fingers sliding through the small amount of hair that was there to deepen the kiss. He felt his cock twitch from inside his jeans, imagining that this surely was what it would be like to kiss Marcus. After all, that’s why he’d dragged Tomas into the men’s bathroom.

He felt Tomas’s hands reach around the back of him to grab at his ass through his jeans, squeezing him. He pushed back against the hands, ignoring the pain of the hard wall behind him. He felt his eyes flutter open as their lips finally parted for breath.

“Merlin, you are so hot Oliver.” Tomas’s voice said quietly. His blue eyes were blown wide with lust, his lips red and swollen from kissing.

Oliver let out another gasp as he felt Tomas lean forward and press his lips to his neck. Tomas’s head not directly in front of his face made him aware of the fact that there was someone else in the bathroom with them. He blinked a few times before he registered who it was. “Fuck. Marcus.”

Tomas immediately pulled away from Oliver’s neck. “It’s Tomas, actually.”

“He was saying my name.” Marcus said from behind them. His grey orbs were locked onto Oliver’s brown orbs.

Tomas turned around at the voice, detangling himself from the Keeper. “Merlin’s beard! It’s Marcus Flint!”

Marcus turned to look at the other man, disturbed at how much they looked alike. “Yeah. Hi.”

“People say we look alike, you know.” Tomas said with a broad grin.

“No shit, we do.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Care leaving us now, whoever you are?”

“I was here first.” Tomas pushed back. “And it’s Tomas Bridge.”

“I don’t care who you are.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “I think Wood would rather stay here with me.”

Tomas turned to look at the Keeper. He didn’t even need to ask, the look was clearly written all over Oliver’s face. He rolled his eyes and immediately left the men’s bathroom.

Marcus clicked his tongue twice. “Making out in the bathroom with a stranger, Wood?” He smirked. “How old are you? Sixteen?”

“Shut up.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

“I came to use the bathroom, funnily enough.” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Interesting choice.”

“What’s interesting?” Oliver asked curiously. He still hadn’t moved from his spot on the wall.

“The fact that out of everyone in the pub, you pick the one man who looks almost identical to me.” Marcus grinned. He took a step closer to where Oliver still was. “Something you want to tell me?”

“You’re the one who abruptly left me right before you were about to kiss me the other night.” Oliver said quickly. “I had to find someone else who wanted it.”

“Something came up and I had to leave.” Marcus said simply. “I didn’t realise that you were so desperate for it?”

Oliver snorted. “I certainly wouldn’t say that.”

Marcus took another step forward. “It certainly seems that way.”

“Why don’t you shut up and kiss me already?” Oliver pushed back.

“With the beautiful aroma of piss and vomit?” Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Stop ruining it.” Oliver rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off of the wall. He moved forward and closed the gap between them.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo close to those two finally kissing! lol thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, leaving a kudos or even making this story a bookmark. I appreciate every bit of feedback that I receive for this fic and I'm enjoying writing it even though my update schedule has been a little fragmented as of late. Thanks again! GatesVengeance


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared into Marcus' grey orbs. His mind was swimming from the copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed throughout the night and his stomach was already swirling in anticipation. His hands grabbed at the front of Marcus's robes, his fingers sliding through the expensive silk material.

His let his eyes drop to Marcus's slightly parted lips, another bolt of excitement rushing through him. His eyes glanced back up to meet the older man's gaze, tugging his lip between his teeth as he waited. "Are you just going to stare at me all night?" He grinned. "You've got me where you want me."

Marcus scoffed as he finally allowed his hands to move from where they were against his sides to finally touch Oliver's body. He felt his fingers tingle as he let his hands rest on Oliver's waist. "This is hardly the most romantic place."

Oliver laughed. "You were going to kiss me out in an alleyway."

Marcus smirked as he pulled his wand out of his pocket, sealing and locking the door from the inside wordlessly before letting his wand slide back where it came from. "Don't want to be disturbed."

Oliver opened his mouth the retort only to suddenly feel Marcus's lips against his. He felt Marcus's hands grab tighter against his waist as he was pushed backwards until he hit the wall. He let out a gasp, allowing his lips to part slightly while he felt the other man's tongue slide into his mouth.

He lifted his hands from the front of the older man's robes to grab at muscular shoulders. He let out a groan while his eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting to the side to allow Marcus to take control of him. He pushed closer into the kiss, a bolt of chemistry rolling through him as their bodies connected, chests pushing against each other to try and get more.

Marcus pushed further into their kiss, their bodies trying in vain to get closer to each other. He let his hands slide down Oliver’s side to grab at his hips and pull him impossibly closer still. He groaned into their kiss as their tongues coiled around each other, a surging bolt of arousal building in the pit of his stomach.

He pulled away from the kiss, deliberately ignoring the sound of protest that filled the otherwise silent bathroom. "Shut up, Wood." He mumbled as he buried his face in the Keeper's neck, pressing soft, delicate kisses on the sensitive skin.

Oliver’s hands slid from their place on Marcus's firm shoulders to grab at the other man’s strong, muscular biceps. He let out a sharp gasp as his fingers grabbed at the still clothed arms, definitely turned on by the feel of the older man’s muscles. He pushed his hips forward, allowing another groan to spill from his lips. He could feel the Chaser’s hardening cock pushing right back at him through the material of his pants. "Fuck, Flint."

Marcus lifted his mouth away from Oliver’s neck, relishing in the look of absolute want he saw in the younger man’s brown orbs. His fingers grabbed tighter still at the other man's hips, his cock throbbing from the noise that spilled from Oliver’s lips. He smirked. "And you were going to fuck around with some other guy."

"Well you weren't here." Oliver countered but his defiance was short lived as he felt Marcus push his right leg in between his and begin to rub against him. He couldn't help but push down on the thick leg between his, craving that friction. "Are you actually going to do something or are you just going to dry hump me all night?"

"From what I could see, you didn't mind the dry humping." Marcus smirked, rubbing his leg back and forth a few times. His smirk grew as he watched Oliver’s eyes roll back and push down onto his leg, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. He lifted his right hand from the other man’s hip to gently cup his face. He watched the brown orbs flutter open for a mere moment before he pressed their lips back together.

He felt the same bolt of chemistry he felt before as their lips reconnected. Their mouths stayed closed for only a moment before they parted again, Marcus sliding his tongue into the velvety smooth mouth of his former school rival. He swallowed the groan that spilled from Oliver’s lips as their tongues curled around each other, both sets of eyes sliding shut as they melted into the kiss.

He could feel Oliver’s cock growing harder still against his thigh as he felt the younger man’s body grind against him. He lifted his right hand away from the Keeper’s hip towards the front of Oliver’s pants. Without breaking the kiss, he easily undid the button and slid the fly down on Oliver’s jeans, his hand slipping inside of the warm confines of his former rival’s pants and grabbing at the hardened cock from outside of his underpants.

Oliver broke the kiss immediately, letting out a curse as he did. His eyes instantly looked down to see Marcus’ big hand grabbing at his dick through his bright red briefs. He lifted his gaze and saw the lust clearly in the older man’s grey orbs, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he watched. “Marcus.” He breathed out, hips involuntarily pushing up against the hand. “Please.”

“Please what?” Marcus smirked.

“No games.” Oliver said quickly. “Touch me.”

“Tell me what you want.” Marcus said as his hand tightened its grip around the other man’s length.

“I want you to get me off.” Oliver said with a gasp.

Marcus couldn’t help the grin that grew on his face as he pulled his hand away from the younger man’s dick to pull down his jeans and briefs slightly. He pulled his leg out from where it was between Oliver’s legs as he pulled down the garments that were in his way. He stopped pulling them down until they were sitting about mid-thigh on the other man.

He felt his mouth water as he looked at the younger man’s thick, erect cock now sitting flat against the hem of his t-shirt. It looked like he had a decent girth and length to his cock but he knew that he was bigger, if only by a little bit. He lifted his hand up to his mouth and spat into it, his grey orbs locking onto Oliver’s brown eyes as he did so.

He lowered his hand and slowly wrapped his hand around the other man’s length, the saliva ensuring that there was enough of a lubricant to work Oliver’s cock. He heard the gasp that left the Keeper’s lips as he started to move his hand up and down at a slow pace to begin with. His left hand moved from where it was hanging limply to grab at Oliver’s ass, giving the muscular globes a firm squeeze.

“Fuck. You’ve got a nice arse.” Marcus groaned as he allowed his hand to speed up. “It would be great to fuck.”

Oliver let out a moan as he pushed his hips forward into the warm hand but trying to push back against the other hand that was grabbing his arse. He lifted one hand from Marcus’s arms to curl around the back of the older man’s head, pulling his face forward so that he could reconnect their lips together.

He felt his eyes slide shut almost immediately, his lips parting instantly with a groan to allow Marcus to slide his thick tongue inside of his mouth. He felt so many sensations that had his head swimming with absolute lust. Everything was Marcus. He felt almost overwhelmed at the absolute feeling of being so under the control of someone else.

Marcus’s tongue felt so good inside of his mouth, his lips so addictive that he wanted to keep kissing him until he ran out of breath. Marcus’s hand felt so good squeezing and kneading at his ass, the skin underneath no doubt prickling up in goose bumps the longer it went for. Marcus’s other hand was working his cock with expertise; firm, strong strokes building up and getting a little bit quicker each stroke up. He didn’t care that he was already pretty close. Everything was Marcus.

“Marcus.” He panted out, breaking their kiss to let their foreheads rest together. He felt the spark pass through them as they looked into each other’s eyes. The coil deep in the pit of his stomach was slowly undoing. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Good.” Marcus breathed out. His hand sped up its movements on Oliver’s cock, earning a loud moan from the younger man. His left hand reluctantly left the other man’s glorious ass to lightly knead Oliver’s heavy, swollen ball sack between his fingers.

Oliver was completely lost now. He probably should have been embarrassed at how he was acting, the other man’s name a permanent fixture on his lips as he moved closer and closer to his orgasm. Both of Marcus’s hands just felt so good with what they were doing to him, he could hardly contain himself. He felt the hand on his cock speed up its movements and he couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“Marcus. Fuck.” He breathed out. “I’m so close. So so so close.”

“C’mon Oliver.” Marcus moaned, his hand never once faltering. “I wanna see you cum.”

That was all it took for Oliver to finally let go. He felt his body tense up, his head tilting back against the wall and his eyes sliding shut as his lips parted and he let out a loud, heavy moan of the other man’s name as he released his essence all over Marcus’s hand. He felt the hand on his cock pump a little bit longer, the other man’s palm pressing against his cock head and giving it a gentle squeeze to get the last bit out.

Marcus couldn’t take his eyes off of Oliver’s face. He couldn’t remember ever seeing something so erotic as what he just witnessed. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a closed mouth kiss that still had the same passion as their last one.

He pulled his hand away from Oliver’s balls to undo his pants, clumsily pulling them down so that they, along with his navy blue briefs were sitting just underneath his arse. He broke the kiss to take a step back, pulling his other hand away from the younger man’s cock to wrap around his own.

Oliver took a few deep breaths to regulate his breathing before he took notice of what Marcus was doing. He could hear the soft groans that were echoing around the bathroom but it wasn’t until his brown eyes reopened that he saw what the other man was doing. He felt his mouth go dry, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.

Marcus with his pants down and his hand wrapped around his cock, jerking himself off and using Oliver’s cum as lubrication was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He lifted his gaze, brown orbs locking onto the other man’s grey orbs. He leaned forward and reconnected their lips. Their kiss was messy, mingled with the groans that were spilling from Marcus’s lips as well as the movements of the older man’s hand on his cock.

Oliver broke the kiss and reached forward with his right hand to smack Marcus’s hand away from his cock. He took hold of the thick length in his hand, his mouth watering at how Marcus felt in his hand, the combination of the warmth, girth and length of the older man’s cock turning him on. He moved his hand up and down Marcus’s length, relishing in the groans that were spilling from the Chaser’s lips as he did, increasing his speed and the firmness of his grip each time he worked his hand up and down.

He glanced back up at Marcus who was looking at him with pure want in his grey orbs. He couldn’t help the way that his lips twitched into a grin, knowing full well that he had the upper hand right now. He slowly lowered himself down onto his knees without ever breaking eye contact or the way he was jerking Marcus off.

He stopped jerking the other man off for only a moment before he pulled the cock towards his mouth. He didn’t hesitate with any teasing; knowing that they were well past that now and he swallowed Marcus’s cock all the way down, not stopping until he could feel the thick length in the back of his throat. He glanced up at Marcus, taking note of the way that Marcus was looking at him before he started to bob up and down, his mouth sucking hard on the way down and hollowing his cheeks out on the movement back up.

Marcus couldn’t take his eyes off of Oliver. He watched in awe as the younger man moved his mouth up and down his cock so expertly as if he already knew what it was he liked in a blowjob. He threaded his hand through Oliver’s short hair, guiding the younger man’s head up and down, his hips pushing up ever so slightly. He’d be thrusting in hard and harder if the wall wasn’t behind Oliver’s head.

He let out a shaky moan as Oliver gave his cock a hard suck. He could already feel that he was close to going over the edge even before Oliver’s lips had wrapped around his cock. And if Oliver kept working him like that, mouth moving down quickly and dragging it out slowly back up there was no way he was going to last long.

“Oliver.” He moaned softly as he pushed Oliver’s head further down his length. “You’re so fucking good at sucking my dick.”

Oliver glanced up at the other man and picked up his momentum. There was something addictive about the way that Marcus tasted and the feeling of having his mouth so full of dick that spurred him on like never before. His right hand reached up and gently began to knead Marcus’s balls in his fingers while he never once faltered in his rhythm with his mouth.

He could feel the hand that had weaved itself through his hair. He could feel the grip in his hair get tighter and tighter and he knew that the other man must be close, his balls feeling heavier in his hands as the seconds ticked on by. He could hear his name as a whisper, being repeated over and over again. If he could smirk around Marcus’s cock, he would be doing it now.

Marcus felt the familiar stirring in his stomach as Oliver continued moving his mouth up and down, picking up speed with each bob of his mouth. The suction felt just right on his cock and combined with the fingers that were rubbing his balls he was a goner. He tried to concentrate on the up and down movements but that was only making it harder to hold on.

He didn’t even have time to let Oliver know he was about to cum as his orgasm caught up to him. He allowed his head to droop forward and his eyes to slide shut as he felt the pleasure take over him. He pushed Oliver’s head down his cock as he came, needing and wanting to feel the younger man’s lips right at the base of his dick as he released.

Oliver was surprised when he felt Marcus’s cock stiffen in his mouth before he felt the other man’s cum land on his tongue, the usual bitter taste there causing him to wince slightly. He didn’t usually like it when other guys came in his mouth but there was something about tonight that made him to want to let it happen. It made him want to let Marcus cum in his mouth. He needed the taste, wanted the satisfaction of getting the older man to do it.

He waited a few moments before he felt the hand that was tangled in his hair release so he could pull his mouth away. He didn’t stand up right away, taking a few moments to regulate his breathing. He felt Marcus step away from him and that was when he stood up, pulling his jeans and briefs back up and on. He could hear the older man doing the same, the sound of his zipper being pulled up the only noise in the bathroom.

He glanced over to Marcus who wasn’t exactly looking at him but he certainly wasn’t looking at him. There was an awkward vibe in the air as they both readjusted themselves ready to re-join everyone in the pub. He wanted to say something but couldn’t decide what he was going to say. He stepped over to the sink to wash his hands and face when he saw a glass being handed to him. He looked at Marcus curiously.

“It’s mouthwash.” Marcus answered as Oliver took the small glass and poured the contents into his mouth. “Was that everything you thought it would be?”

Oliver rolled his eyes before he spat out the mouthwash in the sink. “You’re really modest. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Marcus smirks. “Well I enjoyed it anyway. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“You want to do it again?” Oliver asked, almost a little surprised.

“That and more.” Marcus smirked. “C’mon. We better get back.” He retrieved his wand from his pocket and undid the spells he’d put onto the door before they started.

“You’ll have to take me out for dinner if you want more.” Oliver quipped.

“We’ll see.” Marcus grinned. “You can go first.”

He watched as Oliver left the bathroom before he did. He took a deep breath and waited about a minute before he left the room to go back to where his friends were still sitting waiting for him. He glanced over towards Oliver who had already been pulled aside by someone he didn’t recognise.

He stopped at the bar to grab himself and his friends a round of drinks before he returned to the table where they were all sitting. “Drinks all round!” He grinned at them as he took the empty seat next to Terence.

“You’re in a good mood.” Adrian commented as he took his free beer, taking a long sip.

“What took you so bloody long anyway?” Cassius asked sharply. “It really doesn’t take that long to get to the bar and back.”

“I was side tracked.” Marcus shrugged his shoulders as he took a sip from his glass.

“What did someone want to suck your dick for an autograph?” Cassius snorted.

“Well it wasn’t an autograph they were after.” Marcus responded.

“I’m sorry? What?” Terence asked sharply.

“Wood looks pretty pleased with himself. Were you in there with him?” Graham asked quietly.

“Doesn’t matter if I was.” Marcus replied.

“You definitely were.” Terence replied. “And about fucking time.”

“Don’t fuck with him.” Adrian said sharply. “The season starts next week.”

Marcus didn’t respond just looked over to where Oliver was standing with a carefree smile on his face.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about damn time, am I right? ;) thanks for reading. reviewing, leaving a kudos or making this story into a bookmark. GatesVengeance


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Oliver had only seen Marcus a few times in the past few weeks since their dalliance in the Men's bathroom and truthfully he didn't know how he felt about it. He found himself most nights replaying the scene over and over again, hand down his pyjama bottoms, eyes squeezed shut as he remembered the moment over and over again. Each time he closed his eyes, the same sense of excitement washed over him.

The few times that he had seen Marcus had been brief but not without a sneaky kiss out of eyesight of everyone else. It never escalated to anything more which both disappointed Oliver but at the same time there was more pressing matters to attend to.

The start of the new Quidditch season had begun and Oliver had told himself that he needed to focus himself entirely on his game and that meant not socialising to the extent he had been. He had stopped drinking all together to focus himself on the upcoming season and even though he still attended the team's social events, he left early to go home and go to bed. He knew deep down that he was leaving before Marcus even got a chance to get there but he still did it anyway.

He'd tried to push their coach to have longer training sessions, starting much earlier in the mornings and running until well into the afternoon but Simon had shut him down straight away. Simon had made it clear that their training sessions would remain the same that they were so that no one burnt themselves out.

It didn't stop Oliver though. Every morning he'd wake up at half past five and go for a ten kilometre run around the neighbourhood where he lived. Sometimes he’d be joined by his younger sister Ashley but usually when she joined his morning workout sessions, they’d get a kilometre into the run and she’d ask him to stop.

And that was where he found himself this morning, stopping mid stride to turn around and see his sister struggling to keep up.

“Ashley! Come on!” Oliver grinned, continuing to jog on the spot as she huffed over to him.

“Not all of us are as athletically gifted as you, dear Oliver.” Ashley rolled her eyes as she put her hands on her hips, trying to stop the cramp that was growing in her stomach. “Just give me a minute please.”

Oliver stopped jogging on the spot and looked over at his sister, a huge grin still present on his face.

Ashley was his only sibling and was a year younger than he was. She’d been in Gryffindor at school as well too but as their interests were so different, they didn’t spend a whole lot of time together in school. Ashley was incredibly popular in school which was unsurprising given her exceptionally pretty face. She was also quite bright, topping her year in nearly every subject and earning both a Prefects badge and the Head Girl’s badge.

She worked hard her final year at Hogwarts to set herself up for a role in the ministry. She’d always been interested in Magical Law Enforcement but was definitely not interested in becoming an Auror, her passion was around procedures and focusing on the rules and regulations not on catching the wizards who were quite obviously breaking those rules.

She originally started as an intern in the Improper Use of Magic Office and quickly impressed her superiors around her. She proved her worth and secured a permanent position less than six months in the Wizengamot Administration Services office. She worked there for just under twelve months before she was promoted to be the Assistant to the Head of The Magical Law Enforcement, who is Gawain Robards. She loved her role and was always keen to over achieve and just do more than what was expected of her.

She had shoulder length, light brown hair that was usually parted straight down the middle. She looked similar to Oliver in the face but her features were a lot softer, her brown eyes slightly rounder and her lips a little fuller. She had a very slim build in comparison to Oliver’s muscular body and was at least a head shorter than her brother.

Oliver watched his sister slowly walk towards him, taking over exaggerated deep breaths. “Ash, I don’t even know why you _want_ to come on these runs with me when you can’t keep up.”

“I’m trying, Ollie!” Ashley protested. “I want to be fitter like you are but I just can’t keep up with you!”

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe you need to practice by yourself before you join me?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Can we walk for a bit?”

Oliver shrugged. “Yeah, alright. But you need to try and run again a bit later.”

“Why are you going so hard with your workouts?” Ashley asked as the pair began walking at a quick pace. “Don’t you have a team training session today?”

“You should know me by now that I always give 110% to everything and that means increasing my workout schedules.” Oliver answered. “And besides, it’s only a 10 kilometre run each day.”

“Oliver. Please.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “You sound like some superhuman fitness guy who just wants one more workout.”

“Shove off, would you?” Oliver lightly pushed his sister. “What’s new with you anyway? Still getting loads of fan mail?”

“It is certainly not fan mail.” Ashley said sharply. “It was one weird owl. Anyway, I’m sure you get loads.”

“Absolutely not.” Oliver reassured her. “If someone wants to approach me, they literally just come up to me and ask.”

“Really?” Ashley laughed. “That must be the weirdest thing.”

Oliver shrugged, trying to move on from the conversation. “How’s Louis?”

Ashley made a face and Oliver knew all too well what that face was. Ashley was engaged to Louis Macmillan. Louis was a well-known Cursebreaker that carried his own reputation for being a highly sought after Pureblood Bachelor before his engagement to Ashley. On paper and in photos, they looked like the perfect couple but Oliver knew in reality there was more to it than met the eye.

Ashley let out a sigh. “His parents, and our parents for that matter, keep pressuring us to set a wedding date but we are both in no hurry.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I even want to marry him.”

“Have you told him this?” Oliver asked.

“Well, yeah. I think he feels the same but it’s complicated.” Ashley answered. “Anyway. What’s new with you? Are you seeing anyone?” She grinned at him.

“There was this one guy I had a bit of a thing with.” Oliver answered sheepishly. “But not much has happened since.”

“Is he a Quidditch player?” Ashley grinned.

“He might be.” Oliver answered. He could feel his cheeks start to flush.

“You have such a type, Ollie.” Ashley commented. “Is he tall as well? And with dark hair?”

“Shut up.” Oliver rolled his eyes even though he could feel his cheeks start to flush deeper.

He was about to add something else when he heard a noise from the other side of the park. His brown eyes scanned the park and settled on the form of two men running. Well, one was running while the other lagged behind. He felt his heart start to race in his chest as he immediately recognised the one with black hair that was easily outstripping the other one.

“Everything okay Ollie?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I just know those two.” Oliver indicated to the only other people in the park. “Ready to run again?”

“Wood!”

Oliver felt himself tense immediately as he heard the voice. He watched as a grinning Marcus Flint came jogging over to him with Terence lagging behind him still. He could see the slight sheen of sweat that was starting to form on Marcus’s forehead. He noticed the other man was wearing a long sleeved, white t-shirt that clung to his strong muscles while he wore black, mid-thigh length shorts.

“Flint.” Oliver said quietly, unable to tear his eyes away the older man.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Marcus smirked, his dark eyes locked onto Oliver’s.

“I’ve been trying to focus on the season, actually.” Oliver quickly retorted. “Which means less alcohol.”

“Has it helped?” Marcus smirked. “I mean, the Falcons have only won one game so far this season.”

“We can’t all cheat to win all our games.” Oliver retorted quickly.

Marcus laughed. He glanced behind him at Terence. “Higgs can’t keep up. Want to run with me?”

Oliver looked over at his sister who had a smirk on her face. “Sure. If you can keep up with me.”

He grinned at Marcus once before he took off. He heard the short curse word from the other man and then heard the tell-tale noise of the other man following him, the heavy footsteps colliding with the pavement behind him. He grinned as he kept his pace.

Ashley shook her head as she watched her brother and the other man run away from where she was. She turned to the dark haired man’s companion. “Are they always like this?”

“Always.” Terence rolled his eyes. “I’m Terence by the way. I’m the Seeker for the Falcons. I’m guessing you’re Oliver’s sister?”

“Ashley.” Ashley answered with a nod. “If you’re the Seeker, how come you can’t keep up with the other guy?”

“I’m fit in other ways.” Terence laughed.

Oliver could feel and hear Marcus right behind him, this sound of the older man's shoes colliding with the concrete footpath over and over again. He couldn't stop the grin that was on his face as he continued to run. Being like this reminded him of being back in school with the other man, always trying to one up each other.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Marcus only a step behind him. The dark haired man had a determined look on his face as he tried to keep pace. Oliver knew that Marcus was going to catch him but he'd be damned if he didn't try and hold out as long as he could.

Marcus hadn't minded running behind Oliver. After all, any chance to check out the younger man's ass while he ran was always a good one. He could feel Oliver's pace starting to slow down just ever so slightly and he took his chance to speed up just enough to overtake him.

"C’mon Wood." He called out over his shoulder with a grin. "I thought you could keep up."

"Shove off Flint." Oliver called back. He watched as Marcus sped on ahead of him, easily more than five steps ahead of him already.

Marcus turned his head to look at Oliver. "See if you can catch me before we get to that tree over there!"

Oliver grinned back and felt a surge of adrenaline. He felt his pace pick up with each stride he took and soon he was only a step behind Marcus. He kept trying to push through his strides as he saw the large Oak tree grow closer and closer in sight.

Marcus came to a stop in front of tree. He placed his hands on his hips and took a few deep breaths before turning around to see Oliver slowly coming to a stop in front of his. He couldn't help the smirk that grew on his lips and couldn't resist the urge to dig at the other man. "Always second best, Wood."

Oliver laughed. "You only just beat me and you know you did."

"I could have easily outstripped you at the start but I was just admiring the view." Marcus smirked.

"Oh yeah?" Oliver grinned as he took a step closer to the other man. "What was so good about it?"

"C’mon Wood." Marcus rolled his eyes, the smirk not leaving his lips. "You don't think I was just looking at the back of your head while I was behind you, do you?"

Oliver took another step closer to the other man, feeling bolder. He reached forward and grabbed a hold of Marcus' bicep, pulling the older man closer to him. He allowed his fingers to curl around the firm muscle. He felt his hips tingle as he felt Marcus' hands gently rest there.

"We could be seen, you know." Marcus reminded him.

"Who cares?" Oliver grinned. He let one hand reach up and wrap around the back of Marcus' head and pull their faces together. There was no hesitation as he pressed their lips together in a firm kiss.

Marcus pushed his body closer to Oliver's as their lips parted and he pushed his tongue into the other man's warm mouth, both sets of eyes shutting simultaneously. He tilted his head just slightly; allowing himself more access into Oliver's addictive mouth, bolt after bolt of chemistry rocking through his body.

He pushed himself closer into Oliver, forgetting for a moment that they were out in the open. He was totally lost in everything that was Oliver. He reluctantly pulled back from the kiss, his eyes slowly opening to look at Oliver.

"When are you going to make your move on me?" Oliver asked quietly.

"I thought I already had?" Marcus smirked.

"Well, yeah." Oliver felt his cheeks flush. "But I'm still waiting for that dinner invitation."

"Oh." Marcus' lips twitched into a grin. "Well maybe if the Falcons beat the Magpies this week, I'll finally make my move."

Oliver blinked for a moment. "I thought we were playing the Wasps this week."

"Think again, Wood." Marcus smirked. "Unless you'd rather be playing against that other guy you started something with in the bathrooms."

"You sound jealous." Oliver smirked.

"Hardly." Marcus replied. "It didn't take long to win you back over."

"Try not to be too upset when we beat you this weekend." Oliver said with a grin.

Marcus scoffed. "It’s cute that you think the Falcons can beat the Magpies. We're the league champs after all."

"I seem to remember that I have a pretty good record when it comes to versing you." Oliver responded.

"We'll see, Wood." Marcus smirked. He glanced around the park and could see Terence and who he presumed was Oliver's sister sitting down at a nearby bench. "I suppose we should get back."

"I suppose." Oliver nodded as the pair parted. He felt his skin prickle from where Marcus' hands were as he watched the older man walk a few steps ahead of him.

If he’d been paying attention to what was going on around him and not on watching the older man walk away in front of him, he would have heard the clicking of a camera and seen the flash from the device. But his brown eyes focused on nothing but the Chaser as they closed the distance between where his sister and Terence were sitting.

Ashley looked up as she heard the two sets of footsteps approaching where she was sitting with Terence. The pair had gotten along quite well in their short time they’d been sitting together. “Oliver!” She grinned, her eyes widening as she saw him. “Terence just told me that you’re playing against the Magpies this week.”

“Yes.” Oliver said stiffly. He deliberately didn’t look over at Marcus who he just knew would be smirking. “What about it?”

“Can you get any more tickets?” Ashley grinned. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you play.”

“You hate Quidditch, Ash.” Oliver responded.

“C’mon, Ollie. I want to support you.” Ashley grinned. “I’m sure Louis would be keen to come as well.”

“Yeah, _Ollie_.” Marcus turned to look at the slightly younger man, revelling in the way his cheeks flushed. He turned back to where the other two were sitting on the bench. “I’m Marcus by the way. Marcus Flint.”

“I know who you are.” Ashley said quietly. She was definitely trying not to remember the half-naked pictures she’d seen of the attractive man that had been splattered across various magazines. “I remember you from school. I’m Ashley.”

Marcus felt his lips curl into a smirk. “You must be Oliver’s sister. The resemblance between the two of you is uncanny.”

“C’mon Ash. We’d better get back.” Oliver called to his sister and he watched her jump up from her spot on the bench. “I’ll see you later on today Higgs.” He looked over at Marcus. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

He turned away as Ashley joined him and the pair walked back in the direction of Oliver’s flat. He could feel Ashley looking at him and he turned to see her brown eyes watching him carefully. “What?”

“Is he the guy you kinda had a thing with?” Ashley smirked.

“Maybe.” Oliver answered. “Do you actually remember him from school?”

“Vaguely.” Ashley answered. “He did some photo shoots that left little to the imagination in a magazine that I read.”

“Oh Merlin, Ashley!” Oliver let out the loudest laugh he could muster.

“Shut up.” Ashley rolled her eyes. “And no you can’t borrow any of them.”

Oliver just laughed again as the pair approached the gate that led out of the park. He certainly didn’t need to borrow the magazines when the real thing was in arms reach.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and leaving a comment/kudos/bookmark for this fic. Look forward to what you all think. GatesVengeance


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Two days out from their Sunday afternoon match with the Magpies and Oliver was definitely feeling the pressure. He felt the same rush of adrenaline he did leading into every other match but there was something else this time that made his stomach swirl uncomfortably. He knew it had everything to do with the fact that they were playing against Flint and his team.

Even though he’d played numerous times against the other man, there was something about this upcoming match that had him amped up like he hadn’t felt for the longest time. It reminded him of his last match back in Hogwarts that had been for the House Cup. It felt like there was so much at stake, even though he knew that no one else in his team felt this way. To the rest of the team, it was just another fourth round match.

Simon had given them a stern talking to during their final training run. They also had what was called a ‘Captain’s run’ two days prior to their match to iron out any final game plans and any other deficiencies that they needed to work on. Their coach had made it crystal clear that they had to win this game.

They’d only been able to win one of their opening three matches, which had them situated right down the bottom of the ladder, sitting above only the Canons and Pride of Portree. Of the three games they’d played, they hadn’t even been able to catch the snitch once. The game they did win against the Canons, Pucey had scored more than fifteen goals, securing them the win just.

He trudged behind his team, his heavy broom over his right shoulder. He could see the rest of his team laughing and joking as they made their way to the change rooms, something that annoyed Oliver to no end. They needed to take this game seriously and he’d be damned if they were going to lose because they weren’t focused enough.

He entered the change rooms last, letting his broomstick stand on the floor and lean up against his locker. The loud, raucous laughter was irritating him even more. “Guys, c’mon!” He said loudly. He watched his six other teammates look over at him curiously. “We all need to focus. We’ve got to win this match on Sunday otherwise we’ll be hard pressed to do _anything_ this season.”

“We are focused, Wood.” Adrian replied back as he pulled his training jersey over his head. As he was facing Oliver, he didn’t see the look Terence was giving him. “We _can_ have fun, you know.”

“We all need to _really_ focus.” Oliver continued. “I just don’t see that from a bunch of guys who spent the last bit of our last training session goofing off.”

“Wood.” Terence said sharply. “We all want to win this match as much as you do. Especially against the Magpies.” He added. “Trust me, Flint keeps reminding me of how good the Magpies are.”

“Oh, I bet he does.” Frederic called from across the room.

Terence narrowed his eyes at the Beater. “And _what_ is that meant to mean?”

“Well, you two are close aren’t you?” Frederic smirked at the Seeker. “Like, _really_ , close right?”

Terence furrowed his brow. “He’s my best friend if that’s what you mean.”

“Not quite Higgs.” Frederic let out a laugh as he dug through his backpack. He pulled out a glossy magazine and threw it across the room. “And here I was thinking he was into Wood. Boy was I wrong.”

Oliver gave the other man a look as he watched the blonde haired man flip through the copy of Quidditch Confidential, eyes widening as he landed on a page of interest to him. He felt his heart racing in his chest as he looked at the other man.

Terence looked over at Frederic who still had that stupid, smug look on his face. “For one, that’s not me in that picture.” He said sharply. “And for two, why do you read this crap?”

Frederic merely rolled his eyes. “It entertains me.” He added before he left the area where the lockers were and headed into the showers.

Oliver busied himself inside of his locker, trying not to think about whatever was in the article that made Frederic imply that Terence and Marcus were more than friends. He closed the locker door and had to take a step back when he saw Terence standing there, still holding the magazine in his hand. “What?”

“Well, I’m not sure how I feel about there being a picture of you and it being implied it’s me.” Terence answered, shaking the magazine in his hand.

Oliver took the magazine and his eyes widened as he read the article that the magazine was open to.

_‘MARCUS FLINT CAUGHT WITH SECRET GAY LOVER TERENCE HIGGS’_

_‘Perennial bachelor Marcus Flint may have confirmed why it is that the last Male member of the Sacred twenty-eight Flint family is yet to settle down with a Pureblood witch. Photos have surfaced from earlier in the week showing the Montrose Magpies champion Chaser locked in a passionate embrace with the Falmouth Falcons Seeker, Terence Higgs._

_Our source confirm that the pair have been close for many years, dating back to their Hogwarts years together where the pair shared a dormitory room for most of their schooling years. ‘Marcus never really had friends in school but Terence was someone who was always by his side’ our source exclusively confirms._

_‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they have been together for many years’ our source adds. ‘After all, it was Marcus’ sway that got Terence the tryout for the Falcons to begin with. Terence was kicked off the school team for Draco Malfoy and didn’t have any success until Marcus was a big name in Quidditch himself and could pull the strings for his boyfriend.’_

_Judging by the photos we’ve been able to obtain exclusively, it looks like the loved up pair are almost ready to make the announcement official that they are together._

_We approached Marcus Flint for a comment who told us if we didn’t leave; he’d punch our teeth down our throat. Charming.’_

Oliver reread the article a few times, glancing over at the accompanying photos with the full page spread. There were three moving photos on either side of the article. The biggest photo was of Marcus posing coyly lifting his shirt up to reveal his toned abdomen, a smirk planted on his lips as the figure in the photo moved to lift his shirt and lower it. The other photo up the top of the right hand side of the article was of Terence and Marcus. Marcus had his arm wrapped around Terence’s shoulder and the pair was laughing.

The last photo made Oliver’s stomach sink. He knew straight away when that photo was from. It was taken only a few days ago under the shade of the Oak tree that he and Marcus had had a race towards to, the older man edging him out slightly. The only way to determine who it was that was in the photo was that towards the end of the three second moving photo, Marcus’ face appeared at the end to look out from under the tree. Oliver’s form in the photo was barely visible but he could see his body made out against the tree.

“I guess when you guys were ‘running’” Terence made quotation marks with his fingers as he spoke. “this is what you two were actually doing.”

“Can you blame us?” Oliver grinned.

“Well, no. I can’t.” Terence rolled his eyes. “But you two should really be a bit more cautious.”

“Has Marcus said anything to you about it?” Oliver asked.

“No, he hasn’t.” Terence answered. “I’m sure he doesn’t care about it because it’s not true.”

Oliver nodded. “Have you and him ever been anything?”

Terence let out a laugh. “It’s not my place to tell you about his past.”

“That’s a yes then?” Oliver let out a laugh of his own.

“You can ask him that.” Terence replied. “But I’m sure he will tell you it was a long time ago and that he was probably thinking about you the whole time anyway.”

Oliver blushed, unsure of what to make of that statement.

“C’mon Wood.” Terence laughed. “You need to have a shower, you stink.”

\---

Oliver paced around the locker rooms, his grey and white robes billowing as he paced back and forth. He could hear the crowd as they continued packing into the stadium. Judging by the sounds of it, it sounded like it was going to be a sell-out crowd. He wasn’t surprised; Montrose always drew fans to their games, especially when they were at home.

He could feel himself on edge. His nerves felt like they were going to get the better of him, his heart beating hard against his chest while his stomach did backflips. He knew why he felt so nervous and it was all to do with the man who would be playing Chaser on the opposing team. This match in the grand scheme of things really didn’t mean all that much, it was only a fourth round game after all, but it certainly felt like a Championship game to Oliver.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror that was in the change room and stopped his pacing. They were wearing their away robes today due to the similarity in colour with the Magpies robes. The robes were a bright white with dark grey stitching along the edges as well as the team’s logo which was on the left hand side of the chest. Underneath the robes, they were all wearing, tight dark grey coloured leather pants along with a long-sleeved shirt with the team’s logo on it.

Oliver undid his fingerless gloves and redid them back up a few times while he looked at himself in the mirror. He almost thought he saw a glimpse of the boy he used to be in Hogwarts. The boy that was determined to do absolutely anything, aside from cheating, to get the win. He let out a heavy exhale, doing a double take when he saw Terence standing next to him in the reflection of the mirror. He felt Terence clap his hand down on his shoulder.

“You alright, Wood?” Terence grinned. “I haven’t seen you this nervous before a game.”

“We just need to win this game.” Oliver said quietly. He hoped he was exuding confidence but judging by the look on Terence’s face, it was anything but.

“You’ve beaten him loads of times and you know you have.” Terence replied. “Merlin, you should have seen him after you beat us after Potter’s first game. He all but destroyed the locker rooms.”

Oliver laughed at that. “Oh yes, I heard about that. Didn’t he have a month’s worth of detentions to fix it by hand?”

Terence laughed. “And didn’t we all have to hear about it?!”

“Can I have everyone over here?” Oliver and Terence looked over to the front of the locker room where Simon was standing in front of a chalkboard with some diagrams on it.

Oliver nodded at his Seeker before the pair went over and sat down on the bench next to each other. He looked up at Simon who was standing at them with a stern look on his face.

“Alright, lads.” Simon started. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. We _need_ to win this game.” He glanced around at the faces of his team who were all showing no emotion. “Our best chance at beating the Magpies is by neutralizing their best asset.” He turned to write on the chalkboard with big bold letters. “Marcus Flint.” He said as he turned back to the team. “He’s not won best player for no reason. If we can take him out of the equation, then we have every chance to be able to win.”

Oliver creased his brow as he heard his coach talk. He’d never heard his coach talk like this before a game and despite whom it was that they were talking about, Simon had never given the instruction to take someone out before. Maybe he’d been oblivious before but this was certainly the tactics he’d been expecting when he’d joined the Falcons. “What do you mean by ‘take him out of the equation’?” He spoke up.

Simon turned to look at Oliver with a curious look. “Is it really that hard to understand, Wood?” He asked. “I want Everhart and Guilford to knock him off his broom.”

Oliver felt Terence stiffen slightly next to him. “Is that really necessary?”

“Piss off Wood.” Frederic sneered from in front of him. “This isn’t your precious Puddlemere. You knew what you signed up for when you joined the Falcons.”

Oliver didn’t say another word, the worrying feeling in his stomach intensifying as he sat there, listening to his coach drone on about the other plays that they had worked on during their practices through the week. He could feel Terence shifting uncomfortably next to him as the minutes dragged on.

Simon clapped his hands together. “Alright, Falcons!” He called excitedly. “Get out there and win!”

There was a cheer from the majority of the team and Oliver knew it was only him and Terence that didn’t cheer along with the rest of the team. Oliver rose from his seat and went to go and get his broomstick that was leaning against his locker. He grabbed a hold of it and carried it next to him as he marched to the front of the locker room.

He heard the sound of his team assembling behind him and he took a deep breath as he heard the loud voice of the Magpies’ ground announcer echo around the stadium.

“Magpies fans!” The voice called out much to the applause of the crowd that was there. “Put your hands together for the Falmouth Falcons!” There was a loud ‘boo’ that echoed around the stadium as Oliver started marching out into the middle of the pitch. “Led out by their Captain and Keeper Wood. The Chasers Pucey, Warrington and Montague. The Beaters Everhart and Guilford. And their Seeker Higgs.”

Oliver ignored the loud noise that echoed around the stadium as the team made their way into the middle of the stadium. He could see the referee was already standing there with the crate of balls standing by his side, broomstick in one hand. Oliver gave him a curt nod as he took a look around the large stadium. He knew out there in the stands was Ashley, Louis, his parents and Percy and Audrey, no doubt ready to cheer him and his team on.

“Are you ready Magpies fans?!” The ground announcer called out loudly. Another loud cheer went up. “Are you ready for your Magpies?!” The sound was so loud that Oliver felt it vibrate through him. “And here they come! Led out by your Captain and Chaser Murphy. Your Keeper McCormack. Your other Chasers Flint and Ryan. Your Beaters McIntyre and Hayward. And your Seeker Everett!”

Oliver ignored the loud cheer that echoed around the stadium as he watched the Magpies line up. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over to the line up to get a better look at Marcus. The other man looked positively smug, a smirk plastered on his handsome face while the black robes clung to his strong body.

He saw the referee gesturing for him and Murphy to step forward. He took the few steps forward, chest puffed out and head held high as he marched forward to the other Captain. He could feel the Chaser’s dark eyes on him as he stepped forward and he tried to ignore that feeling as he tried to focus on the other Captain who was looking at him with a stern face.

“Captain’s!” The referee said loudly to be heard over the sound of the raucous crowd. “Please shake hands.” Oliver didn’t look at the referee, only held his hand out for the other Captain. He saw Murphy quirk an eyebrow up at him before extending his own hand. The pair shook hands, rougher than what needed to be. “I will not hesitate to blow a foul for any dirty tactics.”

Oliver parted from the other man and made his way back to his team. He could see the referee opening up the crate and allowing the Snitch and the Bludgers to escape the confines of the wooden chest, being allowed to fly out into the stadium much to the cheer of the crowd. He nodded curtly at the rest of the team and put his hand out flat. He watched the rest of the team do the same and on three, they lifted their hands up into the air with a loud cry of “Falcons!”

He didn’t take another glance at the opposing team, merely mounted his broom and made a beeline for the goals. He had just reached his position in the goals and saw that McCormack had done the same at the other end of the field before he heard the whistle blow and saw the red Quaffle being thrown up into the air and the match had started.

He gripped onto the end of his broomstick as he keenly watched the first tussle for the Quaffle. He saw Pucey dart forward to try and grab a hold of the red ball, only for it to be smacked out of his hand by Flint who easily took first possession for the game. He kept an eye on the dark haired man as he made his way closer towards the goal, the three Chaser’s from the Falcons trying but failing to catch up to him.

It was then that he saw Everhart come from nowhere and ram hard into the side of Flint, who dropped the Quaffle in surprise. Pucey managed to swoop down to grab a hold of the red ball and streak away along the pitch with Warrington in support right beside him. The pair exchanged a few passes as they reached closer and closer to the opposition goal.

Pucey managed to duck out from Ryan trying to ram into him and had a clear shot at goal. He lifted his right hand and threw the ball hard, the Quaffle sailing just past the Keeper’s fingertips. There was a loud ringing of boos around the stadium as the whistle blew for the goal.

The next restart for the Quaffle had Flint all the more aggressive. He had no hesitation in shoving Pucey away from him as the slightly smaller man had to grip tighter onto his broom so as not to fall. Flint had a determined look on his face as he swerved through the Falcons players and made it closer to the goal posts. He even saw Everhart approaching him and before the slightly bigger built Beater could ram him hard, he stuck his elbow up and shoved him away.

Oliver could see the look in Flint’s eye as the Chaser approached him. He gripped tightly onto his broomstick as the other man got closer to him. He knew he could stop him. He’d done it numerous times before. He hovered in front of the middle goal but had enough sprint on his broom to be able to get to either one before the other man shot his goal. He could see Flint rearing up to shoot and he was ready. He watched the Chaser lift his right arm to shoot the goal. He timed it perfectly and was able just to catch the Quaffle before it sailed through the right goal post.

“Try harder next time, Flint!” Oliver called as he threw the Quaffle back towards Warrington, who immediately sailed back down the pitch.

Flint merely smirked and abruptly turned on his broom to streak back down the pitch to get another shot at getting the goal past Wood.

The game continued on like this for a nearly an hour. The roughness that was always present between the Magpies and the Falcons was nothing new and neither was the harsh shoving. There was a lot of back and forth with the possession of the ball and Oliver had been surprised that they’d been able to hang in the way that they had. The score was 100-90 in favour of the Magpies and while Oliver had saved a large number of goals already, the ones that had been scored against him had either been with the help of a Bludger or another Chaser had rammed him out of the way.

He glanced up just above him to see Higgs and Everett circling above the rest of the crowd, eyes scanning desperately for the Snitch to put an end to the match. He felt nervous for Terence. Everett was the Scottish national team’s Seeker and had won many games with his ability to catch the Snitch in precarious situations. Terence, while Oliver was sure he had to be good at his game given he’d held his position with the Falcons for a number of years, he wasn’t the same calibre of player.

The sound of a loud whistle caught Oliver’s attention down the other end of the field and saw Montague celebrating the goal he’d just scored. He cheered himself as he watched the six Chasers make their way back to the middle of the field for the restart. He could hardly believe that they were even with the Magpies. They hadn’t even been able to score this much against the Arrows in their second round loss. He felt a sudden burst of confidence, a self-belief that they could actually win this game.

He watched the restart and saw Flint dive in and snatch the Quaffle right out of the grasp of Warrington. He saw the black haired man streak out in front of the rest of the pack, narrowly avoiding a Bludger that was sent his way by Everhart. He smirked back at Everhart and stuck his finger up at the blonde haired man.

Oliver watched carefully, his attention solely focused on stopping the ball from going through his goalpost. His brown eyes narrowed and focused only on Flint. He could see Murphy and Ryan right there with Flint but he knew the former Slytherin wasn’t going to pass the ball. He watched the other man flip the Quaffle from his right hand to his left hand and start to aim the ball.

He’d been focused on the ball until there was a gust of wind that blew Flint’s sleeves on the left hand of his robes up slightly, revealing a flash of what looked like a black tattoo. He froze, his brown eyes widening as he realised exactly what the tattoo was of. “No.” He breathed out.

He didn’t care that the ball sailed straight past him through the left goalpost. He didn’t care that the older man was smirking at him in a way to goad him. He felt his heart sink as the realisation hit him. He thought he was going to be sick. He looked at the other man, watched as he turned away as if nothing was amiss.

He heard the deafening roar from the Montrose crowd and looked down to see Everett on the ground with his hand raised high, a look of pure elation on his face. He felt somewhat better that Higgs was only just behind him. He heard the whistle to indicate the end of the match and made a beeline for the ground.

He landed a bit more clumsily than he would have liked and let his broom drop carelessly on the pitch. He stormed over to where Flint was standing, grinning and celebrating with his team. He saw the other man turn to look at him with a smug grin on his face.

“You lost fair and square, Wood.” Marcus smirked, taking a few steps towards the Keeper.

“What’s on your arm?” Oliver asked sharply. He closed the gap between them and grabbed at Marcus’ left forearm. “What is on your arm?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Marcus snapped at him, trying to rip his arm out from Oliver’s tight grip. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. “Let go of me, Wood.”

“What the fuck do you have on your arm?” Oliver repeated, only this time a little louder.

“Fucking let go of me!” Marcus snapped again, trying again to pull his arm out. “I’m fucking warning you!”

“Show me what’s on your arm.” Oliver pushed back. He was aware of the fact that their teams were gathering around them, many sets of eyes curious as to what they were doing.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Marcus snapped again, using his other hand to prise away Oliver’s hand on his forearm, the pressure tight around him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I saw something on your arm!” Oliver snapped back. “Show me there’s nothing there if there isn’t!”

“I’m not showing you anything!” Marcus retorted sharply. He felt Oliver’s hands grip around his arm again. He couldn’t be exposed like this. “This is your last chance. Take your fucking hand off me or else.”

“Or else what Flint?” Oliver challenged. “You’re all bark and no bite.”

Marcus didn’t know what possessed him to do it. He tried to pull his hand out of the Keeper’s grip but failed. So instead he pulled his right hand back and punched Oliver square on the jaw. He watched the Keeper take a few steps back, grabbing at his face. “I told you not to.”

Oliver lifted his head and charged for the Chaser. He tackled the slightly bigger man to the ground and produced a punch of his own, hitting Marcus square in the nose. The pair rolled around on the sandy ground for a few minutes before they were pulled apart by their team mates.

It was Terence and Adrian who lifted Oliver up to his feet and dragged their Captain away from the scuffle. Oliver resisted them at first but the other two had a decent grip on him as they made their way to the locker rooms. He was let go by the other two and slumped down on the wooden bench in the change rooms.

“What the fuck was that about, Wood?” Adrian snapped at his Captain. “You know you’ve just bought yourself a suspension for being a bloody idiot, right?”

“I don’t care.” Oliver said quietly.

Terence handed his Captain a bunch of tissues. “Hold it up to your nose first. I’ll go get the healer.”

“Was that really worth it?” Adrian snapped at him once Terence had left.

“No.” Oliver said quietly.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm, what's on his arm? thanks for reading and the support I've received so far for this fic, I appreciate it all. GatesVengeance


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Oliver wanted to be anywhere else in the world right now than sitting here at a cramped table inside an Italian restaurant with his parents, his sister and her fiancé. He took a sip from his glass of fire whiskey, glancing around the restaurant, ignoring the looks from the other patrons inside.

Once the rest of the team had made their way back into the locker rooms, he'd been given a spray from all of them. The worst had come from Simon, who yelled at him until he was red in the face. His coach had told him over and over how absolutely stupid he'd been and how this was going to affect the team going forward.

The press conference that followed the game had been just as painful. Their team healer had given him the once over but luckily nothing on his face was broken. The healer had told him the few scratches and the bruise that was forming around his eye was going to linger around for a few days.

The questions the members from the press had asked him had been annoying and repetitive. The first lot of questions had been in regards to the team's performance and how both he and Simon thought the team would fare for the rest of the season.

He knew that the questions were going to turn to the fight that he got into with Flint and he felt the anger inside of him start to boil up as the questions began.

_"What started the fight between you and Flint after the conclusion of the game?"_

_"It looked like quite a disagreement between the pair of you. Care to elaborate on what happened to cause the scuffle?"_

"We just got caught up in the game." Oliver rolled his eyes at each question. The more the press asked, the more the question sounded the same. He knew there would be repercussions from their actions and the team that was in charge of suspensions would give him and Flint a charge they deemed fair.

Usually after each game, they'd go out as a team to dinner and debrief. But there was none of that tonight. As Oliver changed into his clothes after his shower, he heard the whispers from his teammates. He ignored it as he got his belongings together and made his way out of the locker rooms, only to be stopped by his sister Ashley who was waiting outside for him.

He reluctantly agreed to go to dinner with her, Louis and his parents and that was where he found himself. He didn't feel in the mood for talking tonight but that never seemed to stop his parents. It wasn't that he didn't get along with them and they approved of his lifestyle choices, it was more that he was so different from Ashley that made their relationship more complicated.

Oliver and his sister looked the most like their mother, Sera. His mother had short brown hair and large brown eyes. She had a kind face, a slight build and was a kind woman who worked as a Herbologist, specialising in different breeds of flowers. She met lots of high profile witches and wizards in her job which made her almost obsessed with blood status despite her marriage to Oliver's father not being the most prolific in social circles. She often encouraged her children to marry into high society.

Oliver's father, Michael, couldn't have been more different in his views when it came to high society. He'd worked for many years in Magical Law advising some of the wealthiest Wizarding families for various reasons across the United Kingdom and he saw the hidden side to a number of high profile families, including their vast debt. He had short, brown hair, large blue eyes and was somewhat stocky in build. He'd always hoped one of his children would follow in his footsteps but there was no reason he could not be proud of either of them.

Sitting next to Oliver was Ashley's fiancé, Louis Macmillan. Louis had short, blonde hair with large green eyes. He had a chiselled face, with high cheekbones, and slightly fuller lips. He had a bit of muscle on his frame. Oliver guessed he was handsome, if a bit pompous.

"Oliver, darling. Look at your handsome face." Sera started. Oliver looked over at his mother. "You need to hold yourself in more decorum in games. No Pureblood should be acting this way."

Oliver rolled his eyes as he took a sip from his drink. "Well, firstly, mother." He started. "Flint started the fight. And secondly, he is a Pureblood too. I'm pretty sure he's a part of the twenty-eight."

Sera clucked her tongue together three times. "Such a shame. You wouldn't think someone with that blood status would act like that."

"You'd be surprised Sera what some of those old families get up to." Michael said before taking a sip of his beer.

"At any rate, it’s not really acceptable." Sera said quietly. She turned to Louis. "I imagine your parents wouldn't accept this kind of behaviour."

"Of course not, Mrs Wood." Louis replied politely.

Sera laughed loudly as she took a sip of her glass of champagne. Oliver rolled his eyes at his mother's antics.

"Do you think you'll be suspended Ollie?" Ashley asked quietly from beside him.

Oliver shrugged. "I guess so. I've never been in a fight like that in the league before."

"I hope this won't impact on your reputation, Oliver." Sera said sharply.

"I don't really care if it does." Oliver answered. He ignored his mother's overdramatic gasp. "I can't change what's happened so who really cares?"

"Should you really be Captain of your team with such a flippant attitude?" Sera asked.

"I'm Captain for a reason, mother." Oliver replied sharply. "And right now, I couldn't care less what's going to happen."

\---

Marcus took a sip from his glass of whiskey, his dark eyes focused on the flames in the ornate fireplace in the Manor’s formal sitting room. His face was sore from the stupid fist fight he’d gotten into after the end of the match. His dark eyes flicked over to his covered left arm, he felt a burst of shame at what was hidden underneath the sleeve of his sweater.

He should have been celebrating after their win with his team; instead he let his stupid feelings get in the way. He knew he shouldn’t have punched Oliver. There was absolutely no need for it and he was almost certain the younger Keeper probably wouldn’t want to talk to him again, let alone continue on with what they had started together.

He cursed underneath his breath, his right hand tightening its grip on his glass. He lifted his hand and threw the glass at the fire, ignoring the sound of the centuries old glass shattering as it collided with the back of the black stone fireplace, the alcohol causing the fire to flare up slightly.

“Fucking idiot.” He cursed, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at the fire in front of him.

He’d been given several sprays from the rest of his team and his coach once he’d gotten back to the changing rooms. He tried to block it out as he retreated to the showers, trying to hightail it out of there as quick as he possibly could. It was when he was just about to leave the showers that he remembered his mother had been there today.

He kicked the nearby bench, ignoring the way his teammates flinched away from the outburst. She’d been so excited to see him play today and he’d gone on ahead to ruin it by his own stupid actions. He slammed his fist into his locker once he’d reached it, not caring that he’d dented the metal and certainly not caring at all as he heard the whispers behind him about his behaviour.

He quickly changed into his other clothes and went to leave, advising his coach that he was leaving. His coach gave him another spray as he went to leave about how he’d embarrassed the team’s reputation and how he should be lucky that he wasn’t kicked off the team right now. Marcus ignored him, rolled his eyes and left the locker rooms.

He ignored the groupies that were waiting just outside the gates and instead made his way towards where he could see his mother and his aunt waiting for him. He didn’t need to be told otherwise that his mother was disappointed. He could see the look in her blue eyes, the kindness dimmed somewhat.

His aunt had been much more vocal. Once they’d apparated back to the Manor, Narcissa had not held back. She’d gone in harder and much more personal than any of his teammates or his coach would even dare to. He narrowed his dark eyes at her as she continued her rant until he eventually he didn’t care any longer and walked away from her, ignoring the sound of her voice carrying through the large house as he trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been sitting here by the fire. He re-emerged from his bedroom much later to have a very quiet, almost awkward dinner with his mother. She had said a few flattering things to him about the game and how he’d played but he knew she wouldn’t start picking on what had happened afterwards. He’d seen her do similar to his father while he was still alive and the end result was something he’d rather forget.

“Master Marcus!” Marcus turned his head to see Barty standing in the doorway to the sitting room, shrouded almost completely in darkness. “You has guests!”

Marcus cocked an eyebrow up. “Who is here?”

“Master Terence is here!” Barty squeaked. “And he has brought more friends with him!” He opened the door and watched as Terence, Adrian, Cassius and Graham made their way into the dark room. Barty clucked his tongue twice. “Master Marcus, youse cannot sit here in all this darkness!” He waved his hands and the room lit up, revealing the grandness of formal sitting room. “Can I get Master Marcus and his friends some food?”

“No, thank you Barty.” Marcus said quietly.

“Please call me if you needs me!” Barty squeaked, bowing low to the ground before he retreated out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“What are you lot doing here?” Marcus asked sharply, turning his attention back to the fireplace.

“We wanted to check in on you.” Terence said quickly. He took the seat that was closest to Marcus on the leather longue that was next to the chair the Chaser was sitting in.

“Speak for yourself.” Cassius snorted. “I want to know why the fuck you punched our Captain in the face.”

“Didn’t know it was any of your business.” Marcus responded. He grabbed his wand that was lying on the nearby coffee table and used it to summon five glasses and the whiskey he was drinking to pour each of them a drink. “I don’t know what brand the whiskey is. I found it in my father’s liquor cabinet.”

“Is this your childhood home?” Graham asked as he looked around the grand room.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Marcus said quietly as he took a sip from his glass.

“This is the place you grew up in that you hated?” Cassius scoffed. “How can anyone hate living in a place like this?!”

“There’s a portrait of my father out in the hall. You can talk to him for five minutes and see what hell I lived in for eighteen years if you want.” Marcus replied sharply.

“Can we talk about why you punched Wood after the game?” Adrian asked as he took a sip from his glass.

“Yeah, that was _real_ smooth, Flint.” Terence rolled his eyes. “For someone who was trying to get into his pants, I don’t think punching him in the face is really going to win you any favours.”

Marcus took another sip from his glass before he answered. “He was trying to grab my arm.”

“And?” Terence balked loudly.

“And?!” Marcus repeated. “You know what’s there, Higgs.”

Adrian scoffed. “Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to get the dark mark.”

Marcus didn’t answer for a moment. “I had no choice.”

“No choice?!” Adrian exclaimed loudly. “No choice?!! There’s always a choice, Flint.”

Marcus turned to look at the other Chaser carefully. “You’re right, Pucey. My two choices were get the stupid mark on my arm or die.”

Adrian let out a noise. “I didn’t know.”

“No. None of you fucking know what it’s like to grow up the way that I did.” Marcus snapped at his friends. “My father called me home one day not long after Dumbledore had died. He called me into this fucking room and the room was full of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself.” He saw the way his friend’s eyes widened as he spoke. “I was hauled in front of the Dark Lord, made to bow in front of him while the Death Eaters cat called me and laughed at me. I didn’t want to be there and he knew it.”

Terence looked at his best friend cautiously. “Marcus, you don’t have to continue.”

“I’m explaining why I had no choice.” Marcus replied coldly. “My father _begged_ the Dark Lord to give me the mark. Told him that nothing would make me prouder than to have it on my arm. You see, my father always had to one up whatever Lucius Malfoy was doing and since Draco had the mark, I had to have one too.” He took a longer sip from his drink. “The Dark Lord gave me a choice, I could either join him and his cause or I could die. I certainly didn’t want to have the mark but I also didn’t want to die. I chose to get the mark.”

“I’m sorry Marcus, I didn’t know.” Adrian said quietly.

“I don’t want your sympathy.” Marcus said sharply. “It made my father so proud to watch me get the stupid mark on my arm. I think it was the happiest I’d ever seen him. A man who thought he was so important to have his only son branded with a mark that meant blood purity and power to him.” He let out a shaky breath. “My mother cried when she saw the mark getting put on me, something that didn’t sit well with her cousin’s wife Bellatrix. That awful woman took my mother out of the room and I can still remember the screams.” He let out a shaky breath. “My father didn’t stop her; it was Lucius Malfoy that stopped her.”

None of his four friends said anything and they all looked positively paler than when they entered the sitting room.

“So no, there isn’t always a choice.” Marcus said quietly. “And you wonder why I hate this house? That was only one reason that I hate this fucking place.” He pointed at the fireplace. “If you look at the fireplace, you can see there is a tile that’s cracked. It cracked when my father threw me into the stone when I told him I wanted to play Quidditch professionally and not work at the ministry.”

“Why do you still come here?” Graham asked quietly.

“I come here for my mother. She’s not well.” Marcus answered. “I think I might sell this place, after…” He couldn’t finish. “I mean, I could sell it now, it’s mine.”

“You own this place?!” Cassius exclaimed.

“In Pureblood families, when the father dies, the house is automatically given to the Male heir of the family. If there is no Male heir, then it is given to the next suitable Male relative.” Marcus answered.

“I’m a Pureblood.” Cassius said quickly. “How come I’ve never heard of these rules?”

“You’re probably not a true Pureblood.” Marcus shrugged. “My family is a part of the sacred twenty-eight. We have no one in our family line that isn’t a Pureblood.” He watched Cassius crease his brow. “My mother is a Lestrange. My grandmother was a Malfoy. My great-grandmother was a Black and so on. We have no Halfbloods or Muggleborns in our lineage at all.”

“Oh, how the other half live.” Cassius rolled his eyes and snorted before taking a sip from his glass.

“Are you going to apologize to Wood?” Graham asked quietly.

“Well, yes.” Marcus answered. “Although I’m sure he probably doesn’t ever want to talk to me again.”

“I convinced him that you were different from who you were back in school and then you go and do what you would have done in any Slytherin vs Gryffindor match.” Terence rolled his eyes. “Do you know when you have to go into the board to have your hearing?”

Marcus shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll be soon. I wonder if I can get Wood to talk to me there.”

“He might re-break your nose if you try.” Adrian laughed.

Marcus let out a laugh of his own as he took another long drink from his glass.

“You know the Prophet will have a report on this. I saw the journalists sniffing around near the locker room after the game.” Terence said, not taking his eyes off of his friend.

“Who cares about another story about me in the Prophet?” Marcus rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of.” Cassius started. “Should we be asking you two if that story we saw in Quidditch Confidential has any truth to it?” He laughed loudly and Graham joined in. Adrian only let out a weak laugh.

Terence felt his cheeks flush. “For one, the picture wasn’t even of Flint and I!”

“You seem to be firing up about this.” Graham laughed. He turned to Cassius. “Maybe those rumours we heard about the two of you in school were true after all.”

Cassius slapped Graham on the arm and the grin on his face grew. “Remember how Higgs would always be limping when he came out of the broom shed with Flint following a few moments later?”

“What was it Flint told me once?” Graham paused for a moment, trying to remember. “That’s right. He told me he was showing Higgs how to polish a broom stick properly. Oh, I bet he was.”

Marcus couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, the broom sticks _were_ always polished.”

“You’re really not helping.” Terence said sharply.

Cassius let out an even louder laugh at Terence’s response. “So you had a thing with Flint and Davies? Next thing you’ll be telling us you had things with Diggory and Wood too. Got a thing for Quidditch Captains, hey?”

Terence rolled his eyes. “You guys are so annoying.”

Adrian stood up suddenly. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Marcus gave him a weird look. “Down the hall, third door on the right.” He waited until Adrian had left the room before he turned to Terence. “What’s up with him?”

Terence shrugged. “Not sure. He’s been weird since that article came out.”

“Oh, that makes sense then.” Marcus said quietly. He could hear the other two still laughing loudly.

“What makes sense?” Terence asked sharply.

“He seems a little jealous.” Marcus answered. “When you’re not looking at him, he’s always looking at you.”

“Piss off he is.” Terence rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t make a move on him, I’m sure someone else will.” Marcus said carefully.

“I know. I just don’t want to ruin our friendship.” Terence said with a heavy sigh. “Wood asked me if you and I had a past after that article came out.”

Marcus looked at his best friend carefully. “What did you say?”

“I told him that you were probably thinking about him the whole time anyway.” Terence said with a grin.

“Well, I mean, not the first time I gave you a broom stick riding lesson.” Marcus replied with an even bigger grin.

Terence reached out and smacked Marcus on the arm. “You’re such an arsehole.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the fallout begins from the fight...thanks for reading/leaving a kudos/comment/bookmark. GatesVengeance


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I own nothing to do with Harry Potter or the universe of which this story is a part of, those rights belong to JK Rowling. I make no profit from this story whatsoever.

Oliver stood quietly in the lift, brown eyes focused on the buttons at the top as they lit up to each floor the contraption stopped at. He wasn’t alone in the lift and he could feel the eyes of the other witches and wizards on him, the soft sound of their voices whispering filling the otherwise silent space. Even though it had been a few days since the match, the bruise he had on his right eye was still present as well as the few scratches on the tip of his nose and cheek.

He tried to ignore them as his brown eyes focused on the buttons above him. His stomach was doing backflips from nerves the closer that he got to the hearing. If Quidditch players were charged from some sort of incident relating to the game, whether it was something that happened in the match or afterwards, the players were summoned here to the Department of Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry of Magic. There was a council of four high ranking officials that would go over the charges and would then deliberate on a fitting punishment for the players involved.

Oliver had never been to one of these hearings before but he knew other players who had. The players were usually satisfied with what punishment they received, with only a handful of them ever contesting the charge. He knew Marcus was going to be there at the hearing and it didn’t do anything to make his nerves feel any better. He didn’t know if the Chaser was going to try and do something that would throw his already shot nerves.

He let out a silent sigh of relief as the lift finally stopped at his stop. The automated voice saying, “Level Seven; Department of Magical Games and Sports” before the grates opened. He felt himself groan internally as he heard the footsteps that followed him out of the small, enclosed area.

He walked a little quicker, mostly out of nerves as he walked down the heavily decorated hallway. The walls were covered with portraits of many famous Quidditch players, both native to Britain and abroad. He ignored them as they called out; dropping his head slightly to focus on which door he was to go through.

He stopped in front of a door that had the words ‘Quidditch Disciplinary Hearing’ written on a plaque on the door and made to grab the handle, attempting to turn it but finding it was locked. He cursed, shaking it again. He went to retrieve his wand from his pocket before he heard a deep voice coughing. He lifted his gaze to the portrait that was hanging on the front of the door he was trying to get into.

“And who might you be?” The man in the portrait asked. He was wearing black and white robes and had a rather long, red beard while he leaned against a broomstick.

“Oliver Wood.” Oliver answered quietly. “Falmouth Falcons. I’m here for a hearing.”

The man in the portrait looked him up and down once before speaking. “You may enter.”

Oliver watched the door open inwards before he stepped into the next room. He was a little confused to see it was another hallway. His brown eyes scanned the space, immediately falling on the figure of Marcus Flint who was sitting on the only bench in the hallway, looking up at the clock on the wall.

He heard the door snap shut behind him and he made his way towards where the other man was sitting. It didn’t appear that Marcus had noticed him yet so Oliver walked a little slower, as quietly as he could to sit on the opposite side to where the Chaser was sitting. He had just sat down when he heard the other man speak.

“Evening, Wood.” Marcus said quietly.

Oliver felt himself tense. He turned to look at the other man that was once his former school rival. He could see the purplish colour of the remnants of a bruise on his right cheek as well as the dark circles under his eyes. “Flint.”

Marcus turned to look at the Keeper. His eyes surveyed the bruise he’d created on Oliver’s face, a pang of guilt rolling through him. He shouldn’t have been so stupid. “I owe you an apology.”

“Now really isn’t the time.” Oliver said sharply. “We’re both about to be suspended for Merlin knows how long and all because you wouldn’t show me what is on your arm.”

“Why do you care so much about what’s there?” Marcus asked.

“Because it looked like-” Oliver let out a sigh. “It reminded me of something from the War and I just wanted to see that it wasn’t that.”

Marcus didn’t answer. He looked at the other man, his grey eyes surveying the Keeper, noting the way that his shoulders were slumped forward, a sad look in his brown eyes. He knew what the slightly younger man was thinking about. He knew the other man was remembering the Battle of Hogwarts. Marcus had seen him that night and he’d hidden from Oliver, ashamed to be seen by the other man as he was obviously with people that were on the wrong side.

“Your silence only makes me think that what I thought I saw was true.” Oliver said quietly.

“What do you think you saw?” Marcus asked cautiously.

“I thought I saw the Dark Mark on your arm.” Oliver’s voice was barely audible. “But it can’t have been.”

Marcus didn’t say anything, he just watched the other man. He could almost see the internal struggle going on inside of the younger man’s head, trying to reason with the fact that if it was the Dark Mark on Marcus’ arm then what would that mean? He let out a breath. “What if I told you it was?”

Oliver’s eyes widened as he stared at the older man. There was a strange look on Marcus’ face and he couldn’t tell if the Chaser was telling the truth or not. “No.”

“Or it could be nothing and you just thought you saw it.” Marcus said carefully.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the door nearest them opening. He looked over and watched a girl with shoulder length, red hair walk out.

She looked at her clipboard before she looked at both of them, a smile forming on her lips. “Mr Flint and Mr Wood, the committee is ready for you.”

Marcus stood first but allowed Oliver to walk in first, something that Oliver merely rolled his eyes at. His grey eyes glanced around the room. There was a bench in the middle of the room with two seats that he knew was for the pair of them. In front of them, sitting up on a raised platform was the four committee members and the red haired girl took her seat on the corner, quill poised ready to take notes. He took his seat and glanced to the left and right of him, groaning inwardly as he saw the members of the press waiting there.

“Good evening, Mr Flint and Mr Wood.” The wizard that was sitting in the middle of the bench started. He was an older man with broad shoulders that had the air of someone who used to be a Quidditch player. “My name is Rudolf Brand and I am the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and the head of this Committee.” He paused for a moment. “Joining me tonight for this hearing is Gwenog Jones, Valmai Morgan and Kevin Broadmoor.”

Oliver looked up at the committee members, the nervous feeling in his stomach growing as the seconds passed by. He’d never been in any sort of trouble like this before and that was what scared him.

“Gentlemen, we are here tonight to discuss the incident that occurred between the pair of you on the most recent Sunday at approximately six-fifteen in the evening.” Rudolf droned on. He didn’t look up from his piece of parchment as he continued to read on. “After the Montrose Magpies Seeker Everett caught the Snitch to win the game, Mr Wood you flew to the ground and approached Mr Flint. You and Mr Flint appeared to share a few choice words before you grabbed at Mr Flint’s arm. Mr Flint then retaliated and punched you which you then punched back. The pair of you had to be broken apart by your teammates.” He looked over at the bench where Flint and Wood were sitting. “Mr Wood, do you care to elaborate on what it was that occurred that made you reach forward to grab at Mr Flint?”

Oliver took a deep breath. “I approached Flint because I thought he cheated.” He said carefully, ignoring the bemused look on the committee member’s faces. “Right before Everett caught the Snitch, Flint scored a goal against me and I thought he did something to increase his odds to score.”

Gwenog Jones let out a humourless laugh. “You must think highly of yourself Mr Wood, if you are going to accuse the man next to you of dirty tactics.”

“I’m just telling you what happened.” Oliver replied. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“Mr Flint, can you confirm this outrageous story?” Rudolf droned on. “And can you please elaborate on why you punched Mr Wood afterwards?”

“Wood and I had a fierce rivalry back in school, Mr Brand.” Marcus started. “Him thinking I was cheating is just his way of showing his own insecurities of his skill. I was trying to enjoy the victory when Wood approached me after the match.” He paused for a moment. “I punched him to get him to get his hand off of me.”

“Do you really think that wise to punch someone, Mr Flint?” Gwenog asked.

“Obviously not.” Marcus answered. “But it was in the heat of the moment.”

“I think we’ve heard enough.” Rudolf said defiantly.

“No, please wait.” Marcus called out. He felt all four sets of eyes on him. “Wood retaliated after I’d punched him. I shouldn’t have done something as stupid as what I did and I am truly sorry for what it is I have done by not only embarrassing myself but bringing shame upon the proud club of the Magpies.” He took a deep breath. “I should receive the harsher penalty due to my actions. Wood only retaliated and I believe he shouldn’t be punished as the situation wouldn’t have escalated if I hadn’t thrown the first punch.”

Gwenog snorted. “How touching, Mr Flint.” She let out a short laugh that was matched by Valmai.

Rudolf ignored his other committee member. “Be that as it may, Mr Flint, Mr Wood still retaliated and brought shame upon our game.” He glanced down at his parchment. “Mr Wood is also the Captain of the Falmouth Falcons so his role carries greater weight in situations like this.” He looked over at both men who were sitting at the bench. “Mr Flint, you will receive a three-week suspension and Mr Wood you will receive a two-week suspension for both of your roles in the incident. Thank you both. Good evening.”

Oliver watched the four committee members leave first, the sounds of their chairs dragging on the hard flooring echoing around the room. He stood up after a moment, making a beeline for the door. He could hear a pair of feet following behind him and he knew who they belonged to. He’d barely made it out into the hallway when he felt a hand grab at his wrist. He turned around to see Marcus standing there. “What?”

“Can you just hold on a second?” Marcus asked quietly.

“What for?” Oliver snapped.

“For me to say sorry for starting the stupid fight.” Marcus answered.

Oliver pulled his hand free from the other man’s grip. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.”

“I’m trying to say sorry.” Marcus pushed back.

“I saw what you did in there, trying to take all the blame. How chivalrous of you.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “If you think this means we are even close to what we were before Sunday, you’re wrong.”

Marcus opened his mouth to respond but Oliver was already on his way down the hallway. He cursed before following the same path as the other man, putting his hands into his pockets and dragging his feet along the floor.

\---

Oliver made his way through the crowded restaurant, ignoring the stares and the whispers that followed him as he walked towards the back of the establishment. He could already see his dinner guest for the evening, glass of red wine in one hand while he perused the menu. He took his seat opposite his best friend, immediately calling over the waiter.

“Double firewhiskey, thanks.” He said quietly. He watched the waiter nod before retreating away to the bar. He could see the amused look his Percy’s face. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t drink during the season.” Percy remarked, taking a drink from his glass.

“I don’t.” Oliver answered. “But as I have now been suspended for two weeks, I don’t really care.” He glanced up as the waiter appeared with his glass of firewhiskey. “Thanks.” He mumbled, taking a long drink from the glass, wincing slightly at the strong taste.

“You’re lucky you weren’t suspended for longer, you know.” Percy said sharply. “Why did you even get into a stupid fight with him? How old are you both? Sixteen?”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“Well, then please, dear Oliver, enlighten me with whatever reason you think is valid for getting into a fist fight with him.” Percy replied sarcastically.

Oliver let out a breath. “I thought I saw the mark on his arm.”

Percy gave him a curious look, his eyebrows raised. “As in the Dark Mark?”

“Yes.” Oliver answered simply.

Percy scoffed. “Oliver, you can’t have honestly seen that mark on him. I mean, Flint? A Death Eater?”

“How is that hard to believe Perce?” Oliver shot back. “Malfoy had one.”

“Yes but Malfoy had one because of his father.” Percy replied simply. “And Malfoy was given that foolish mission because of his father’s blunders. Do you really think Flint held that much regard in that circle?”

“Look, I know what I saw, alright?” Oliver let out a sigh. “Seeing it on his arm brought back too many bad memories from the War.” He took a sip from his glass before he continued. “It made me think of all of them. It made me think of Fred, of Colin, of Lupin. All those deaths that shouldn’t have happened.”

Percy visibly tensed at the mention of his younger brother. The hole in his family from the loss of Fred had never quite healed and he knew it never would. “Are you certain he had the mark on his arm? It could have been anything, Oliver.”

“I am sure of what I saw on his arm.” Oliver said quietly. “That was why after the match, I wanted to see it and see if I had seen correctly.”

Percy scoffed. “Oliver. Do you really think he was going to show you out there in the middle of a Quidditch pitch if he actually had the mark on his arm?”

Oliver felt his cheeks flush. “Well, maybe.”

“What does that mean for you and him now?” Percy asked curiously as he took another sip from his glass of wine. “Last you told me, you two had hooked up.”

“I don’t really want anything to do with him right now.” Oliver answered. “And if he does have the mark on his arm, I want less than nothing to do with him.”

“Come on Oliver, the pair of you have been in worse fights than what happened on Sunday and I don’t think it ever dampened your feelings for him.” Percy replied, smirking at the surprised look on Oliver’s face. “We shared a dorm room for seven years, don’t forget and you used to talk in your sleep.”

Oliver felt his cheeks flush. “This is different, Perce. We’re not teenagers and this is real life.”

“Has he at least tried to apologise to you?” Percy asked. He watched the expression change on his friend’s face and felt a grin grow on his lips. “Ah, so he has. And you didn’t accept the apology? Some things never change.”

“It’s not like that Percy.” Oliver tried to protest but his friend was now laughing at him. “It doesn’t change what might be on his arm.”

“Well, why don’t you give him the chance to show you?” Percy pointed out.

“This conversation is getting a bit too much for me.” Oliver remarked, taking another long drink from his glass. “Can we order already?”

Percy rolled his eyes, calling over the waiter. “Stubborn.” He mumbled under his breath as he watched his friend carefully.

\---

Terence watched his Captain walk a few steps ahead of him, his shoulders slumping slightly underneath the weight of his broom. They’d had their practise that had lasted much longer than was really necessary due to Oliver’s stubbornness and constant critiquing of their reserve Keeper. It had been almost unbearable to listen to his Captain complain after only a few days of his suspension and he didn’t know how the team would survive the remaining week and a half.

He glanced to his right and let out a sigh, his eyes landing on the figure of Adrian. He’d been secretly or not so secretly according to Marcus, harbouring feelings for one of his closest friends for a long time now. He’d been too afraid to make the first move, worried that something between them would result in the end of their friendship. Even though it was never the case with his past with Marcus, their relationship was entirely different to what he wanted from Adrian.

Adrian didn’t seem to pay much attention to what was happening around him, despite his quick escape to the bathroom from the conversation of Terence and Marcus’ past at Flint Manor only a few days earlier. Instead of talk to Adrian, Terence ignored the burning question and the very next night while the team was out at a local pub, Adrian had gone home with a stranger.

He shook his head, trying to forget the hurt in his heart at seeing his friend lock lips with someone else while his other friend’s wolf-whistled and cheered him on. He tore his gaze away from Adrian as he talked loudly with Graham and Cassius and turned his attention back towards his Captain.

Oliver always seemed to distance himself from the rest of the team, whether or not it was on purpose, Terence didn’t know. He was always the first player there for practise and was always the last to leave, lingering around to get a better feel for the pitch or to catch their coach Simon and go over even more plays. It was something Terence did admire about his Captain, his desire and drive to be the best but the spark that he first saw in Oliver had dimmed somewhat since their last match against the Magpies.

“Wood!” Terence called out, watching as his Captain turned around to look at him. He noticed the bruising on the other man’s face had discoloured even more so, just leaving the slightest yellowish mark on his face now. “Your bruises seem to be healing well.”

Oliver gave him a look. “My unnecessary bruises you mean.”

Terence shrugged. “They are healing better than Flint’s.” He watched his Captain stiffen visibly. “But then again, you unnecessarily broke his nose.”

“What are you getting at?” Oliver asked sharply. “He started it.”

“Real mature.” Terence rolled his eyes. “I know he tried to talk to you at your hearing and you brushed him off which isn’t fair. Maybe if you gave him the chance, he could tell you what you want to know.”

“Do you ever get sick of trying to defend your shitty friend?” Oliver snapped.

“Marcus is not a shitty friend.” Terence replied sharply. “He’s the opposite of a shitty friend but maybe you can’t see it with your head being so far up your own arse.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “He punched me in the face, Higgs. I don’t want to talk to him. Is it really that hard to understand?”

“The hardest thing to understand is why he is interested in someone as stubborn as you.” Terence narrowed his eyes. “He’s far too good for you.”

“If he’s far too good for me, then where does that leave you?” Oliver snapped. “I’m the Captain of a Quidditch team; you’re a mediocre Seeker riding on the coat tails of your friend.”

“Fuck off Wood.” Terence snapped. “Have fun watching from the sidelines this week.”

Oliver rolled his eyes as he watched his Seeker storm off in front of him, completely unbothered by the exchange.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: a stubborn Oliver? never. thanks for reading and leaving a comment/kudos/bookmark. GatesVengeance


End file.
